2Based on a true story... I am in love with someone's eyes- the worst possible person, of course. angry scowl and sigh i'll get over it... i'll fall in love with a cotton ball instead! heck, a USED cotton ball is better than the guy i'm currently stuck on...
Your eyes.
Your eyes are so beautiful, so deep, darkly lit and shining. Even as you are laughing, they are sad, or serious, or curious. They brim with questions you don't ask, and so I shall never know them. It hurts to not ask you what you want to say.
It began with your eyes. Even before I was aware of it, I wanted to be with you, and loved your eyes. Time spent with you was never wasted. The words with the hint of care behind them, the sudden humor, the eagerness and simultaneous reluctance, the curiosity, the very mystery of you… It captures me in a cage of spun glass and silk, floored with clouds and roofed with sunlight. I want to know why what nearly destroyed me was perfect for you. It makes no sense that I should be crushed whilst you flew. I am told it's a silly question, and a foolish waste of time. But how can I resist asking what my heart begs to learn of you?
If it is love to want always to be with you, then curse me for a moon-eyed fool. If it is love to want to weep when our gazes part, then I am besotten. If it is love for me to hold dear love for those eyes, then love had sweetly carried me away. I care little to talk with anyone but you, unless the others wish to talk of you.
Forgive me, for I know I love your eyes, although I know nothing of you. I wish I did…! And forgive me, for I know you do not love my eyes, me or anything about me. You say much to prove so. And forgive me most of all, for I know you love another. It is not for me to interfere with that.
But you cannot see her anymore. Surely the affection, love, even, must wear thin between you? Surely you would not be so against the notion of my love for you.
But no. I must not say it is love. I must deny it, that it may not reveal itself unexpectedly. For if you rejected me, my perspective of myself from October's echo has not easily been discarded. And how foolish would I feel! But I cannot stop loving your eyes. Their beauty is measureless, their meaning painfully hidden and ever tantalizing. And if loving your eyes with all my heart and being and beyond if loving you, then I do not think I can ever stop loving you.
If only you would tell me who you are.
Yo! Please R&R!