cameron boyce imagines

windows

eyes. the way to read someone. the way to see someone. the way to feel about someone. all linked back to eyes. eyes are one of the most beautiful, important and misunderstood part of the body. the eyes not only allow you to see the world around you, but they help us communicate. they relay messages our words cannot. they show you what your heart wants, and it shows you the reality of what your head cannot comprehend.
cameron's eyes are some of the most beautiful on this world. he always says that mine are prettier, because in his words, "i have poop brown eyes" when in reality, his eyes are the most beautiful part of him physically, besides his freckles of course.
i could stare into his eyes all day long if he'd let me. "cameron," i poke, "yes my love?" he says rolling over, to look at me. his arm around me, and his head on mine. "can i look at your eyes?" i beg. "again? they're the same every time you look at them," he whines, but looks at me. i wrap my legs around him and look him in the eye.
"why do you like my eyes so much?" he asks, brushing hair out of my face, gently pecking my lips. "because, they're windows." he scrunched his eyebrow, "i'm confused," he smiles, leaning down again. "i like looking into your eyes all the time because they are the window to you. they show the true you." i say, kissing him again. this was kind of our habit. "well, love," he says. "your eyes are a lot like windows, too." he smiles. i kiss him again. "when you say windows, that means you're looking from one perspective into another," cameron explains, "so what perspective are you sitting in? and what are you looking for?" "i'm sitting in the backseat," i start, "you're driving, you're in control. i'm in awe. you're showing what you want. you're making your boldest moves because your comfortable with your passengers." i say, "who are my passengers?" he asks. "i am. your want for a family is. your want for success is. your goals and aspirations are, too." "so when you look at my eyes, you see me driving. and you see everything i want?" he smiles, confused. "i guess you could say that," i laugh. "then why are you so fascinated by my eyes?" he laughs, leaning down, kissing me again. "because it changes each time." he looks at me like i'm crazy. "what?" "your goals, aspirations, wants and needs don't change." i say, "but how you use them does." he kisses my hand, drawing me closer to himself. "at times, you're ready to go and achieve all of them," i explain, "then there's times when you're at peace with where you are. there's times when all of it is set aside and you're focused on just one thing," "and what's that one thing?" "us." i say, kissing my love again. "what do you see in mine?" i ask. "i see everything. i see you now, i see you in the past." he says, "i can still see you the day you had to leave your childhood house, the night of your seventh grade dance, your first heartbreak and the first time you knew when you were in love," he explains, "i can see what you want. and i'm in that sight. i see the wants you have, the standards you have." he smiles, moving hair out of my face, "i see the amount of drive you have. the amount of fight in you."
"really?" i say, in awe by this boy, yet again. "of course. i've stared into those eyes for the last two years. i know every single color shift. i know everything about you. not only from your eyes, but your eyes gave me the assurance that it was right for me to know," he further explains. "good god, i love you." i say, attaching my lips to his.