Eyes

I miss her eyes. Baby ass blue was what she called them. She won't even look at me anymore. I don't know if I could stand the thought of even getting another peek into her eyes knowing that I can never possess her heart. Sometimes that is all it takes is one look...one look from a woman is all it takes for wars to be fought and worlds to end.

Here I lie in wait not in the now, but in the here to be with the one person that I hold so close, hold so dear

to bask in the suns rays and to sit in the cool grass to wish for these days of happiness to never ever pass

sometimes it's dark right now alone even the warmth is so cold and this ever silent contemplation is simply growing old

I know in my heart you understand how much you mean to me I'd do it all again I swear to simply let you see

the things that I had thought about and the many days of tears the silent moments of torment but I endured to have you near

It's all worth the pain I know and I'm now forgetting my past when I had so many doubts that anything would ever last

the only thing I can think about now is the love, the laughter, the joy and now erased from my mind the ones who thought I was a toy

You changed my world for the better and you made me realize that all I had to do to live was look up at you and open my eyes

Why is it that whenever I close my eyes I see you? I can't get through one day without thinking about you. It's been roughly two months and still all I want is you.

You told me the that once we had both found someone we'd be happy. I disagree. Just because I have someone else doesn't mean I'll get over you. At best I'll just be distracted, and whenever I try to imagine you with another girl my jealous streak takes over. I'll be happy though when you find someone that makes you happy. You deserve it.

Being an only child and thus spoiled I'm not used to not getting what I want, and what I want right now is you.

The eyes have it.

Ugh. You, with your eyes the color of honey in Ball jars in rows at the roadside booth, honey with the sunlight slanting through it. Your smile that seems to say you're enjoying your fall from grace. Your uncontrollably cocky attitude. Your charming but tiresome sense of melodrama. You want me to come out because you don't know how long we'll be in contact, and you want a last kiss. I tell you you're welcome to a planned last kiss from me, and it can take place sometime after 2040. I can hear the dismay in your voice that I'm not dancing on your strings like everyone else, I can feel your mood fall into bits the way the leaves to the ground that night, beauty in tragedy. Again. I'm not saving you this time. I can't save everyone from every little pain constantly. I'm just beginning to realize this.

I have a folder with your stuff in it. Pictures of you hanging onto me like the world's most emotionally dependent vine, all sinew and pale skin that I can recall the taste of. Notes from you, covered in gothy trailing hearts and sheer youthful enthusiasm.

I don't know if I should burn these things or save them.

He was looking at me. I turned to look at him, and that's how we stayed. It was so hard for me to maintain eye contact. I'm surprised I was able to go as long as I did. It couldn't have been more than a minuet, but it felt like such a long time. My heart was pounding. Finally I couldn't take it any more and I looked away. I think he understood how hard that was for me and knew how much I was trying. I'm happy that I forced myself to do it though. I think it's progress toward letting him in.

I've known how to lie with my face, even my eyes, for a long long time now. I really wish I didn't.

his face still haunts me.

in middle school he was my james dean guitar playing tennis mastering black magic weirdo. he wore plain clothes and shocked me with the contents of his mind.

i haven't seen him since sophmore year. i hear stories about him still though: who he's dated, who he hasn't, what rock he's crawled out from under, the music he plays, i'm surprised he's still playing. how he talks, how he stands, how he loves.

last night i had a dream about him, just when i thought i was starting to get rid of him. there's no reason for me to remember. the dream was vague and pointless, foggy to the point that i don't remember a plot or any images except his impenetrable brown eyes.

his eyes revealed nothing to me. i'd heard others talk about this or that look, but i always fell headlong into the deep brown and lost my entire world to the abyss. i couldn't tell hate from love with him.

every one in a while, i have a chance to see him. i don't take it, because i haven't forgotten. i'm still afraid and in love. the two always went hand in hand.

but sometimes i long to just say yes and take one more moment to get lost in those brown eyes, assure i would again forget the constant disappointment that was his friendship.

i totally agree with the person who has the hot pink color...

his eyes are blue...they're always blue. there's the deep ocean blue that has a steel door in the way of the soul. there's the sky blue that is filled with clouds. then there's the guy with the blue that has no decent description...it's BLUE...the color of a mustang mixed with the pacific and it's reflection of the sky...mist can swim in front or rain can fall behind. they're eyes are always blue.

His eyes like winter skies, his thoughts like bare twisted trees covered in the snow of fear and icy self loathing, so cold it freezes him in place, and he stagnates. Nothing grows in a brain mired in the season of death and hibernation. No love, no affection.

Jet black hair topping oh so pale skin. Naturally narrow frame, narrowed further by your general dislike of food. My peacock.

You left my heart and soul a wasteland. I hope you're fucking happy.

I love to look at peoples eyes, especially when they're sharing what's on their mind, or just silently thinking. That honest look that is very difficult to reproduce at will.

I especially love the way that someone who cares for you looks at you. That deep, intense gaze that you almost wish you weren't staring into. I loved the way the way that he looked at me before he left and I still remember how I let go of my guard for half a moment and then he gave me a big hug. That seems like almost nothing, though, when compared to the way that someone new looks at me. He almost hits that last layer that separates me from the rest of the world. That one last layer that is invisible until you run into it, then, suddenly you realize that you never really knew me. I feel terrible when people reach that level. I feel as though I've left them without the answer that they were looking for because they thought they knew me. I told them they didn't know me but they didn't believe me.

I especially love his eyes when he's laying on top of me, hands to either side of my face, brushing my hair back right before he gives me that passionate kiss, his lips pressed tightly agaisnt mine. Those eyes turn a shade of blue that is simply remarkable. Then he tells me that he loves my eyes and I smile again and he kisses me again.