a supermodel portrait

Exhausted last night, I sat down in my desk chair. I had finally risen from the bathtub. I adorned myself how I thought was stunning and, well, was rejected. The sadness of it all just seemed majestical. I sat there, drinking my wine, leg propped up on the desk; and I could think of nothing else but how I was going to have to force myself to slumber. The soft dancing light of the candles was reflecting of mike's face, and I could hear his heavy breathing. Sip after sip, I contemplated. I could not figure out what I was feeling or wanting. I felt so alone even though I was only a few feet away from my love. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew the fighting of the night wasn't over; and I was very right about that. During that moment though, all I could do is stare at my surroundings. I decided that the emotions on my face where photographic, that this was the emotion I saw in a sad model's eyes. I wanted to capture it. Bottle it up and look at it later on. As if the stance, the feel, the look of it all were something that should be remembered. Not because it represented something.... but the lack thereof. The thoughts of confusion and blankness... the look of my soul, cold and apathetic. Then I realized that this wasn't me. I'm not apathetic... just exhausted. So I laid down, and hours later and after much difficulty, we both fell into sleep.