Eyes Wide Shut

You've asked, "Why me?"

And I would like to give you a smart answer, an all-encompassing one telling you of stars, fate, and previous lives, a mysterious one letting you know how I'm just a silly girl who still believes in magic and true love, a deep and truthful answer that would make you sense that I see perfection in all your flaws.

The truth is all that and more, but explaining feelings feels like a waste of time.

The truth is that, in the beginning, before it all began, it was your eyes... Not their color, their depth. Not that they spoke to me, but that they didn't. A paradox. A challenge. Stories buried, you throwing mouthfuls of smiles over their graves.

Because, you see, I've always had this gift of reading people -- running deep in my bloodline must be the flair of a gypsy foreteller -- but no, not you. Your eyes -- a wall. A sea to drown in. Blue steel to take my breath and cut my vocal chords.

The truth is that, after all this time, your eyes still leave me speechless, and though I know you so much better, they still tell me no stories.

The truth is that I am still learning to read you.

Photo by Asya Schween