That look in his eyes always confuse me. At times I detest it, and fear it
with my life. But at times I want it to look at me. I want it to be in my
way. I wanted him to see me. It was a dangerous gaze. It was blank and
deep to the point where you cannot see its core. And that was when I
feared it the most. What was this man thinking? Was it of me? Was it of
someone else?
His loving words melted into me, and they constantly caused my pale cheeks to turn pink. I was flattered to the point where I was taken aback and my breath was stolen by those very words. And his words of hate pierced my soul and touched my heart, my center, the very thing that held me up. It hurt. It hurt me badly. My soul bled like it would never stop. My moral was low and my spirit was shattered.
This man had two living souls within his mortal body. Coldness enveloped it to the point where only slight happiness. His soul was dark, but not in an intentional way. These two souls were as different as night and day. The darkness of the night causes confusion. The lightness of the day provides security. I have experienced both, and both I love even to this very day. No matter who I marry, or date this man will always have a place in my heart. His name is etched on to me. It may not be visible and it may be deep within, but it is there. I can feel its existance, and I know for sure that it is there.
With all these thoughts I continues my days of marriage like normal. With a husband I love, and with a few friends here and there, I cook and clean like a normal wife. My attire is a bit more modest now a days. And my birthdays are always celebrated with special care.
Thirty-two years old and I take care to look as young as possible. The dresses I wear are trademark of none other than him. Though this year it was mildly different from the rest. The door bell struck out and like any person I answered the door. At my feet was a tall thin dog. Its hair was golden and short, but when I looked into its eyes it gave me that feeling again. It hit my gut, but I was hesitant. In between his teeth a blue rose was placed. And once again I cried like I had a long time ago. I cried not just tears, but with depth and emotion. Each drop had its own sorrow. And so when I grabbed its collar it said very touching words. Those words were his warm words, and I knew once again I missed him so.
I sat on the porch for quite a bit. The golden haired dog was wrapped around my skinny long arms. I cried into its soft fur. Tears fell into the cerulean colored rose. And the ring that spread its wings far out seemed to glisten as I looked at it with my teary eyes. It still remained there. I could not bear to part with it. It was created with love and happiness. It was his joy and happiness, and often it did not show itself. In his deep endless eyes I knew he was as regular as any other person. His high confidence, coldness, and desires covered them. But eyes are windows to the soul, and George is no different from this. If you looked passed the deepness you see that slight glint of happiness.
And happiness is a warm puppy.
His loving words melted into me, and they constantly caused my pale cheeks to turn pink. I was flattered to the point where I was taken aback and my breath was stolen by those very words. And his words of hate pierced my soul and touched my heart, my center, the very thing that held me up. It hurt. It hurt me badly. My soul bled like it would never stop. My moral was low and my spirit was shattered.
This man had two living souls within his mortal body. Coldness enveloped it to the point where only slight happiness. His soul was dark, but not in an intentional way. These two souls were as different as night and day. The darkness of the night causes confusion. The lightness of the day provides security. I have experienced both, and both I love even to this very day. No matter who I marry, or date this man will always have a place in my heart. His name is etched on to me. It may not be visible and it may be deep within, but it is there. I can feel its existance, and I know for sure that it is there.
With all these thoughts I continues my days of marriage like normal. With a husband I love, and with a few friends here and there, I cook and clean like a normal wife. My attire is a bit more modest now a days. And my birthdays are always celebrated with special care.
Thirty-two years old and I take care to look as young as possible. The dresses I wear are trademark of none other than him. Though this year it was mildly different from the rest. The door bell struck out and like any person I answered the door. At my feet was a tall thin dog. Its hair was golden and short, but when I looked into its eyes it gave me that feeling again. It hit my gut, but I was hesitant. In between his teeth a blue rose was placed. And once again I cried like I had a long time ago. I cried not just tears, but with depth and emotion. Each drop had its own sorrow. And so when I grabbed its collar it said very touching words. Those words were his warm words, and I knew once again I missed him so.
I sat on the porch for quite a bit. The golden haired dog was wrapped around my skinny long arms. I cried into its soft fur. Tears fell into the cerulean colored rose. And the ring that spread its wings far out seemed to glisten as I looked at it with my teary eyes. It still remained there. I could not bear to part with it. It was created with love and happiness. It was his joy and happiness, and often it did not show itself. In his deep endless eyes I knew he was as regular as any other person. His high confidence, coldness, and desires covered them. But eyes are windows to the soul, and George is no different from this. If you looked passed the deepness you see that slight glint of happiness.
And happiness is a warm puppy.