He laid on his back for hours just staring up at the stars. He couldn't see one that matched her beauty. In the sky, two particularly bright stars shone not too far from eachother, with smaller ones forming the shape of two eyes. One would have normally gawked at the sight, thinking of how realistic they looked. They resembled what hers would look like if she had them both, but they were no comparison to her one piercing blue eye. Her eye was more captivating; stormy; perfect. It did not take him much thought to imagine what she would look like with two eyes; identical to one another. Does it matter? How could she possibly get more beautiful.

His eyes traveled further up into the night's sky. There was a lone star near the peak of the night's arch; it shone a firey red and glistened with a mesmerizing glow. It seemed to burn like fire up in the heavens. However, instead of thinking of his own red eyes, he thought of her captivating hair; how it would fly in the wind when she would fight. How it would become stained with her enemy's blood. There was something just so perfect and stunning about her face; her whole face, that the night sky could not do his memory of her, justice.

I don't understand... What's happened to me? I usually find comfort in staring up at the night sky. I used to be content with it because it reminded me of myself; alone and dark. But it isn't the same anymore. It seems brighter; it has more light and life than I have ever noticed before. Certain stars attempt to satisfy this emptiness, but its not enough for me, not anymore. No, it's not the sky; this change has come through me. Something inside has changed. I can't stop thinking about her. Her crystal blue eyes out shine any of those gaseous masses in the atmosphere. Her eye shape is more majestic and stunning than any formation that those stars could ever attempt to take. That one red star thinks that it is important and different; something worth while. It is not worth anything to me.

Even as this gentle breeze passes through me, it reminds me of her touch. It's warm and soothing, yet its not the same. I prefer hers. Her hand is firm and sure, not light and passive. The way her hand strokes my face and traces my jaw; how she grips my arm and holds me back from destroying something I consider worthless. She has the innate ability to calm me during my worst times. How does she know exactly what to do? I feel something stirring inside me. What is this called? Why am I finding myself conscious of the small things she does, whether she means them to be great or not?

I must've been there for hours. I was there long enough to see the stars move through their rotation, and twilight was beconing me to return to her. Maybe by now she would want me back. I know that her "day" was coming up soon, infact it is the day after tomorrow- wait- I mean tomorrow. Whatever I said or did, that possessed her to completely leave me in the forrest while getting some stupid human, is beyond my knowledge at this point. I have to stop daydreaming and locate that wretched bug.

I have to go home.