She adds the shading to the shoulder, not too much ink or his frame will be lost. Her favorite of it all is to draw the peaceful curve that connects the neck to the shoulders; the pen is her hand exploring the body she has never known.
There is no background, just a shaded man who brings warmth to her. A background is asking too much, it would only ruin how perfect his curves feel on the tip of her fingers as she follows his shape slowly.
As much as at pains her he cannot have any hair. She would love to shape it, to let it just form as her hand dictates, but it would only be a burden, as it would remind her of all she can never enjoy. The last man she tried had complicated hair. It was how it looked when he awoke that she knew his mood would be that day. Messy meant he was ready for all of her but if she woke up and not one strand was out of place, then the day was not going to go her way. It’s as if his mind formed the hair to warn her that on particular days he would not budge to any of her whims. This perfect man, shaped of ink could not remind her of the real men who have slept at her side. It would be too painful.
He’s done, now would be the time to bask in it. Take him all in; let the way one shoulder is higher than the other speak to her. It’s as if he is walking just to embrace her. She could rest on those shoulders, never having to worry again. His shoulders are a haven were she could finally breathe out. Now if only she could tell if a real man’s shoulders were as reliable as his by first glance.
She shakes her head to let the dream go, she knows that she can never have something so warm, because to her all men are Sergios. Even I was given that name for my brief time trying to be that shoulder.
When we were alone she would call her self: Jane, just as the character crystallized in the song “Jane Says”. If I called her anything else I would soon be corrected for my error of misunderstanding. Truthfully, I never really paid much attention to the lyrics of the song until she whispered the lines in my ear - the last night we were together.
“I’ve never been in love, I don’t know what it is.”
“Didn’t you say that you loved me only a few nights ago?” I replied as any man would holding on, even though his grip was long gone.
“I only know if someone wants me”, my Jane said. I tried to let her know I was different but to her I was just another Sergio who would never understand, but I do. I had a background and that was too much for her to handle and as soon as we started it was over.
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