Eyes

I remember her eyes the most. Strange isn’t it that after adoring a person; after loving them so deeply you would do anything they asked of you; after holding them close so to you, learning the contours of their body; hearing their dreams; living in a world of fingertips and brushed moments of hands on cheeks; and then, finally, seeing them walk away from you for that last time; it’s their eyes that you remember. Something as inconsequential as eyes. I mean, they’re closed for the majority of the time, and when they are open you don’t dare to look at them. These two windows to the soul; those two green pools with flecks of gold. These two-way portals, pulling the world and you into them; replacing it all with pure emotion, with an individual’s hopes and fears…if only we’d dare to look. It’s these things that we remember. The two things we see the least.