Prose

XL

I cannot even be sad about today because it was a success. You were merely a setback, a stupid dream. How could I believe your wandering eyes held the secret to you? You are a closed book, pages glued shut, the title a lie and the back blank. You stand staring at the heavens or you stand staring at me and you love neither as your eyes say. You can move as close as you want and say whatever you want but your eyes do not speak for you at all.

Dirt brown. Dirty, dirt brown. A blackened color, like the soil under my feet. And I always thought I'd hate the stare that brown eyes produce, the lying, warm gaze. But your eyes, your eyes make me want to stare into them and tell you that I love you until you are too scared to say it back.

But you did not look today. But anyone else would do, darling. Any other compliment would do.

I would say you are not special, I would say it a billion times. The words can drip from my blood stained lips like oil and the moon can alight my face and your eyes can be set ablaze, boring into the back of my skull and I would say it once more. And again and again and again I swear I would do it.

But not once would I be telling the truth.

May 16, 2014 10:18pm