My wife sits in the recliner in the living room in a robe after her shower. She's doing her nails as we watch TV. Her hair is mostly dry, but has that wonderful tousled look that makes me think of sex. She has one leg over the arm of the recliner, so I can see her knee. I marvel at the wonderful color of her skin, it's like ivory with a shade of pink, like a white rose. She paints her long elegant fingers into the French tips that I love so much.
When she holds them up to her face and blows on her fingertips. I just feel weak and I don't know why. It could be the natural grace that she possesses when she moves her hands or the pucker of her lips to blow on the nails. Sitting here just looking at her, I'm wrapped around her finger and she doesn't even realize it.
She is altogether pleasant. Her voice is soft and friendly. Her eyes are blue and warm. She rarely nags, and if she does I deserved it because I was being a slacker. When I look at her, I still have that feeling of infatuation, adoration, admiration and plain ole lust that I have had since our first date so many years ago.
I'm the luckiest guy in the world...
Thanks for reading,
Purgatory: A place of suffering and torment with an unknown duration. In Roman Catholic Theology-the place where the dead are purified from their sins.
By Rage Against The Machine