Her Eyes
It had been my own fault for falling so deeply. But it had also been her fault for being so alluring. Afterall, it was her who looked me in my eyes, not the other way around. Her’s were a dark brown, although she had insisted they were black. And despite the great deal of beauty they held, I couldn’t help but fear looking her in the eyes often. They were the kind you could stare into forever without realizing you've been drowning in them the whole time. It was then that I should’ve known to stop while I was ahead.
I looked at her sweet crinkled eyes and admired them for their passion and the light that shone behind them, all without realizing that they had been suffocating me. I had been angry at myself for not realizing it sooner. Eyes like those aren’t meant for you to love, at least not for me to love. My own were meek and pathetic, not for the color they held, but for the soul they hid behind them. A weak soul that had never learned to stare into the mirror and definitively define what she saw. I drowned in those saccharine little almonds.
When you drown, you panic but before you die you pass out. And it’s in that state of weightlessness and dream that I lived with my first love.
