The Butterfly.
The Butterfly.  love stories

joelsenteno Just a writer with no one to write to.
Autoplay OFF   •   3 years ago
A true story of love, and hate.

The Butterfly.

I fell in love with an unfathomably beautiful woman. A euphoric paradox beyond my comprehension, a seamless dress revealing her every desire, and a quick cloak of fire burning every one of mine.

Her smile lit up a room like sunlight penetrating translucent eyelids on a warm Sunday morning. Eyes that would gaze into my soul and dare me to dance with the devil.

Eyes that tell a story far deeper than any ocean. A slim figure complimented by devilish curves, with smooth, caramel skin. Full lips stained with her favorite alcohol.

Black jeans that hugged her delicate skin. Cunnilingus was my favorite thing to do for her. The sounds, the whimpers, how she brings it back up to my mouth when I stop.

The broken moans, hearing her breathing get heavier and feeling her legs tremble. As she looks down and as I look up, she bites her lip. Her back arches, perfectly resembling a question mark.

The way she grinds her clitoris against my tounge. The tone in her voice raised a few pitches as she climaxes and her fingers grip the back of my skull as my mouth filled with her.

The way she brought me back up to taste herself on my lips. We both had came from a past of addiction, the incessant crave for more never let us stop there.

I grip her ankles and pull her towards me and leave no inch of space between us.

We become one, and I admire her hipbones that point towards the ceiling I've spent many nights staring aimlessly at. I contract, she expands. I expand, she contracts.

Our exclaims of love, and insurmountable passion fill the room.

There was a storm inside of me and she was the calm in between, we both reach our pinnacle simultaneously and the earth stops spinning.

I remind her I love her while I'm still inside of her then I roll over to my side of the bed, and her playful nature urges her to push me a little closer to the edge,

all while intertwining her legs with mine and resting her head above my heart. My hand lost in her long, black hair.

I remind her I love her again, she proceeds to kiss me and we talk the night away. Life isn't all sunshines and rainbows, she made the rain better.

I loved waking up next to her, no matter the day I'd wake up on the edge of the bed with her wrapped around me.

She's a bit of a wild sleeper, the pillows would be scattered around her, the blanket only covering her upper back, an old shirt I gave her rests on her chest,

clearly too big for her but she loved to wear my shirts anyway and I loved to see her in them. Her body was like poetry that I loved to read.

I recollect for a second and my taste buds tingle with her taste as I cover her up and kiss her goodmorning. As she slept on me, I could tell she felt safe.

As for me, for once my head wasn't running rampant with thoughts, it was tranquil. She greets me with a smile, and playfully tackles me.

Pillows fall to the floor, we mess the bed up some more and our laughs are trees falling in the forest and no ones around to hear it. Only us.

Sometimes the trees falling caused an earthquake, and I couldn't predict the damage. Still no one was there to hear it, only us, but I was the only one shook to the core.

We had both worked different hours, I'd often get home before her. I loved to cook for her, we both never really had anyone to look out for us.

I could tell she really appreciated it, she would clear her plate every time. She's a slow eater so we'd end up at the dinner table for hours, just talking, I loved it.

Our future, what we love, what we hate. Sometimes we'd just sit there in silence, and enjoy one another's company.

Cute, little glances exchanged in between bites, playful nudges to the other just to get a smile out of one another. There's no real way to describe those moments other than blissful.

She didn't know what that did for me, I never had someone to talk to. I was so content with being alone.

In fact, I never imagined bringing someone into my life, but after she came along minutes alone felt like hours in the dark.

She looked at me with eyes that said "make yourself at home" and I like the way she touched me without her hands only.

Little did I know, this was a broken home, and I'd lose everything trying to make it whole again. Behind all the happiness, there was sadness, there was hate, there was love though.

Usually, anyway. I rationalized for her in the worst way. Happiness needs sadness. Benevolence needs evil; Usually, anyway. I met her in an odd time, my heart heavy with hate and pain.

she saw something in me that I didn't. I loved her for that alone, and I saw the things she tried to lock away from the cruel world. She took the walls I built up and destroyed them.

I saw so much good in her, the worst didn't stand a chance. She was the first of 8, her and her family struggled. I felt that pain, neither of us had ideal childhoods.

I wanted to take care of her, I knew i'd probably never get rid of my pain, but I was okay with that, I only wanted to end hers. I remember the exact moment I fell in love with her.

It was mid Winter, she stepped out of her car in a gray zip up vest, a white polo underneath with black pants, and black shoes.

I could see my every breath like a cold night stood in front of a man with no face. The wind pierced through my clothes and rattled my bones.

She was a bit nervous so she had me meet her outside of my house, I ran out in a peacoat and shorts looking ridiculous.

It made her laugh, I didn't care how I looked at that point because I loved to hear her laugh, especially when I'm the reason. I greeted her with a hug and guided her in.

We watched a movie and talked for hours. We spent the night together. I wasn't interested in sex, I was so intrigued by her, her stories, her smile.

I was also scared, never has my cold heart felt that type of warmth. As we sat on my couch, I couldn't help but get closer and closer to her, she noticed and reciprocated.

I laid my head on her chest, and she wrapped her legs around me. I planted my lips on her neck and she hugged me a little tighter.

I didn't want her to leave, and she didn't want to leave either. I remember always writing poems for her, she loved my poems. She had the biggest smile every time I had one for her.

I must've filled a notebook or two just with words for her. I even remember the startling moment I started to hate her.

It was a cool night, the breeze coming from my window swiftly brushed across me and made me look in her direction.

She was on my bed sifting through her bag, she pulled out this little baggie filled with coke.

I was instantly heartbroken, I come from a family of addicts and it shattered my heart seeing her do that. I had begged her not to, I cried to her.

She cut it up and did it anyway, she came to me, visibly shaken I had to take care of her the rest of that night, scared and pissed off I coddled her and didn't let her out of my sight.

I layed down in the bed, cradled her to my chest, and let her fall asleep. I never looked at her the same after that night. Still, I felt I had to protect her.

Eventually she asked me if we could live together, it felt like the right thing to do. She was a bit suprised at my answer, she cried to me because she felt at home with me.

Her life at her own house wasn't any good and I needed to keep her safe. I assured her that she was home and hugged her as tight as I could. This honestly had to be the best mistake I ever made.

Her parents never liked me, their dislike only grew when we told them about us moving in together and we didn't care too much.

I wanted to get her out of that hellhole, she was never happy there, but her smile never left when with me. They didn't want her there, and I wanted her forever. It seemed like the right choice.

Since we lived together, we did just about everything together. I read her books and my poetry, almost every day, i'd have a new poem for her.

I showed her my favorite music, we danced in our underwear, we acted like teenagers, we ate junk food, we slept late, I made love to her in every room.

When wake up in the morning, sometimes we'd end up in the shower, undressing her slowly, admiring every curve of her slim figure. There's heaven inside of her, and I was dying to visit.

We're very in tune with one another so I smoothly caress her and get in after her, she enjoyed it more than I did.

She loved the water hot, I had to get use to it because I loved to see that damn smile. I'd lather her up entirely.

It was almost routine, scrubbing her back with some type of coconut body wash and it made her smell amazing. Running my fingers through her hair to make sure the shampoo does its job.

By the time she's washed off, her ass is pressed up against me and she's begging for it.

She bites her lip, and let's me have my way, the mirrors are completely fogged, the hot water is gone and she is hysterical. I make sure she finishes first and seal it with a kiss.

She makes sure I always scrub the bottom of my feet, it was hilarious to me but it was adorable and she had small feet I liked to make fun of,

she would playfully try and trip me while I hug her, she kisses me and we just stare into one anothers souls. I help her out and dry her off. It was those little moments I loved the most.

This was the kind of bond you only read about, it was real. Realer than anything I ever had. At this point, I couldn't picture myself with anyone but her.

She came out of work one fridgid evening, she was tired and hungry, and a bit annoyed it seemed.

She was still in her work clothes, hair down, no makeup on and she was still the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on.

I was too excited, I didn't plan anything, I didn't think about it, or anything. She set her things down, I reverse my position and step over to her and hug her from behind.

She's so warm, as she let's a deep breath out, I could tell she needed that. I turn her around, and I drop to one knee...

I asked her to marry me, I didn't even have a ring, she still cried and screamed yes.

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