The Mona Lisa smile.

You are standing up and your lips are inter-locked. You push her back on to the bed, and for that one second it takes for you to cover her, she looks up and she smiles.
It could be a naughty smirk. Like she knows the exact thought in your head, the stage where you’re at. Or the number of minutes she’s going to tease you. Or like she knows she’s going to blow your mind, and is waiting for you to find out.
It could be a laugh. A joyful, unabashed laugh. Of a woman happy in herself, loving the few moments of love shared and not worrying about the next day or the next time or even the next moment. It’s just her then. It’s a laugh which comes out at the back of her throat. From deep within.
It could be a curve of the lips. Shy because she is shy. She looks up, right into your eyes, and you better hope and pray, that she sees her love reflected. She is fragile, this one. With the small smile, the girl who gives her heart away first.
Or it could be that half finished chuckle. Don’t go by the name, it’s anything but merry. She likes you, no doubt. But there will be a part of her you will never get. She will open her arms and you will feel like it is all there is. But there will always be more. And that is why she has the half smile.  She sees the love in you and laughs. She sees the lack thereof and laughs. She laughs at herself. That, my dear, is a dangerous one.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s