It’s the same look he gave me when he told me I was beautiful. The same eyes telling me a story I cannot quite decipher. I know there’s something there, something which he cannot say but which his body acts out on. In that very moment his inner battle becomes highly visible. His conscious, his two inner voices whisper words of confusion. It’s all exteriorized.
I’m not a victim. This isn’t a vampire story. But I’m not going to let him destroy me. However when I get the rare chance to encounter, to catch a glimpse of a person’s soul, it’s hard not get captured and curious. I cannot stop. I cannot let his eyes leave me.
In any other circumstances the long, perpetuating voyage our gazes make would result in a blushing of embarrassments. In this case, we’re as far from pink dipped cheeks as possible. The seconds are in slow motion and I don’t think I’ve ever felt entirely absorbed by someone as I did right there.
I couldn’t tell you anything about the surroundings. Every detail of my soul, I can describe to you but my head is blank regarding the setting. My head protecting my heart. But it didn’t work. It didn’t fucking work. And so forgive me, if my eyes well up with salted water and my view becomes clouded. He is being given some tears you see. Quite too many, quite too many indeed.