Suspicious Love

She could think of nothing more than the sound of her lovers breathing. She watched as the other woman's chest rose and fell. It was so simple and yet the most beautiful thing. Her skin was smooth and pale as porcelain in the darkness of the small room. It was littered with a continuous crisscross of scars from her less than perfect years of adolescences. Despite there origin ; they only made her all the more wonderful.
Her locks of dark hair lay draped across the pillow and her hands, with their delicate fingers, rested on her naked stomach.

The younger woman watched her and thought of how wonderful she truly was. It then occurred to her that she, herself, was just ordinary in comparison. With her olive skin, freckled and covered in unsightly stretch marks, and her lank blond hair; She held not a candle.

But did she feel at all disheartened? Did she feel even a pinch of envy? No. She only loved the woman all the more for loving her; an ordinary lover.