Ma Cherie

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Our eyes meet from across the room but I look away only to peek back to see if it was more than a coincidence. He's still there. His name shall not be revealed or substituted for no other name could describe the utterly perfect being standing before me. At once his seemingly flat brown eyes draw me into their unfathomable depths. So much for anonymity, I recognize him immediatly for who could mistake him for someone else despite the mask; no one even comes close. A knowing smile breaks out across his face and I wonder if anyone else notices the light eminating from it.
I break our bond with a swift flick of my eyes in a different direction and smile to myself for I can feel his eyes follow me as I make my way around the edge of the room to my companions. My sideswept curls block my facial expression from his line of vision so I allow myself one teasing look just to make sure he's still watching. Of course, how could I doubt him? He's always there in a way. Well, at least his ever watchful eyes are. My attention is drawn back to the antics of my friends as they flaunt their new costumes designed especially for this wonderous occasion. Bemused by their flirtaciousness I let my ringing laughter add to the already joyous atmosphere.
I glance back yet again to the where the holder of my heart once was. Much to my dissappointment he was not there and my gut began churning with the thought of him leaving without so much as a brush of an arm. While my chums bask in their ignorance my scanning eyes peel apart every corner of the room.
My senses were at the very peak of their abilities when I feel a gentle tug of my smallest finger and the stroke of a tender hand at the low of my back. Without turning I already know. My heart wells inside of me as I inhale his scent like a much needed drug. I can't help but to giggle at his spontanious tendencies to sneak up on me and give me chills with but a graze of his index finger along my arm. He whispers simple sweet nothings in my ear that set my heart racing and fit to burst with desire. "Ma cherie" I whisper back in my simple french but how else could I put into words what he means to me?
A poet he may not be, rich he may be opposite of, but I only need to hear the slightest utterance of his name to be swept off my feet and float away into my own private dream world which resides in his arms.





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