I sit here on the beach staring off into the sunrise. The sky is painted in eight shades from purple to pink. If I was an artist, I would be drooling over the beauty that I see before me. Alas, I'm no artist. Nor do I really see the panorama. All that I do see is the memories of the last couple of weeks. A very hectic time. It's crazy really. I barely believe it happened and yet I know it has. The sleeping form beside me proves it.
Looking over, I watch as the breath comes in and out. Deep sleep with the eyes rolling around behind the eyelids. Blue like ice. That's a terrible analogy, heh. Ice has more colors than blue. Of course this pair of eyes has more colors than just blue too. When angry, they get dark enough to call violet. When concerned a slight shade of green. Those eyes are more expressive than anything I've ever seen and I don't think the owner even knows it.
The scars on the bare chest tell a story as well. Of savagery, protection, fear and hate. Those scars go deeper than the skin as well. I sometimes, like right now, wonder how such a small body carries it all. How those scars don't over ride everything and force that mind into a dark corner. Words like duty and honor come up. But so does desperation. I guess if the scars allowed on self to curl up into the fetal position, one would know the world, their world, was coming to an end. And we can't have that.
