The first time I met him, I was stunned by his eyes. I guess looking back on it, I have always liked blue eyes. They are so different from my own, and the icy quality to them have always drawn me it.
But his eyes, his eyes were full of water, ocean waves and foggy mornings. They seemed to shine deeply with hidden potential, covered completely by pain. I knew that pain, Knew it, understood and longed for it.
When he looked at me, the electricity was palpable. I was desperate for his attention, the way he acted around women, his charm, his overly flirtatious nature, his body language…I wanted all that for me, just me. His ocean eyes looking only at me, for me. What I did not know, and had yet to understand is the journey ahead, the attraction to that pain and what I would pay for it.
We swam in the deepest, darkest water. Everything I thought I knew and understood floated away from me in fading light. I watched it all go, feeling deep rage. But soon it all turned to mild curiosity. Resignation, in the gaze of blue eyes.
On the way up, we have often been dragged back down, scrapping open old wounds and reliving desperate times. We have had to fight our way among the powerful waves, riptides of emotion, the stings and scrapes of unseen things just below the surface.
Through it all, I remember the eyes, his eyes. The gaze I wanted only on me.
The pain has begun to recede, for him and for me most days. I always try to think back to the first magickal moments of being swept up in him, and his world. There was so much there that I could not have seen, or chose not to see.
But now, waking slowly to fresh poured coffee every morning, its his eyes that give me hope for the next few minutes, sometimes the next few days. I try to stay there. With him, in that moment.
I try to stay afloat. In blue grey ocean eyes.
Words that must be heard 