She reminds him of every good day he’s ever had . Every summer spent in fields of grass. Every sunrise. Every sunset. She tastes like dew and smells like light. And when she speaks, it’s like someone slowly plucking the strings of a guitar, a sadly beautiful song starting to play, all his own. And he loves her. He loves her like he can never grab enough of her between his fingers. And no matter how close he gets, even when they make love, it never feels close enough, like her flesh and her bones keep something sacred in them, hidden from him.
Iain Thomas (via caitie617