I laugh lightly as she reaches out to caress me gently. She’s always so careful with me, but I’m tougher than she thinks.
“You are so beautiful,” she whispers.
I wink at her and a smile lifts her mouth.
Her hand comes forward again to cradle my face and I relax under her touch, wondering what life would be like without this girl’s devotion and love.
A streak of vanity reprimands this thought.
She doesn’t just love me.
She’s obsessed with me.
At times her reliance is childish, but always flattering.
Would she love me as well if I didn’t compliment her so lavishly?
An iron chill threatens to strangle as an unpleasant answer follows; no, she probably wouldn’t.
Retuning to the present, I stretch and hug her to me, squeezing the negative thoughts into nothingness. I’m her weakness. This makes me indispensable.
Doesn’t it?
She sighs happily and I let that sigh wash away my fears.
On our way to a party, she can’t resist touching me continually, rubbing her soft skin against my own. In the presence of company her behavior is no different. I swell with embarrassment at the boldness of her hands traveling over me but I seem to be the only one to notice.
Compliments drape over our night like heavy burlap and it becomes obvious that our unabashed affection isn’t scored, but admired.
A gleam of satisfaction is sparkling in my eye and I know there must be a shine in her eyes as well. There is nothing in life so pleasant than to know I’m appreciated for my smile.
And in return, I never stop smiling.
WHO AM I?
