Into
His Eyes
Blue. A blue so clear. Lovely,
seemingly like those of an infant, such an innocent blue. His eyes. But
how they can lie. How they can deceive. Not so innocent. Not so
trusting. His eyes, a clear light blue. Kind they are not. Windows to
the soul? If so he must not have one. For they're so hard, so cold.
Staring into those eyes I could drown. Or freeze. Those eyes.
His eyes. They could warm you with
their bright gaze. Or freeze you with searing coldness within them. You
can't move, can't act, can't think, looking into those eyes. That's all
I can see when he looks at me that way.
Those eyes. They should be dreamy. They
should be often sparkle with laughter, dance with mischief, b beautiful
in their innocence. Such a shade of blue should reflect such things. But
they don't. Cold as shards of icicles floating in freezing water. Like
diamonds, beautiful yet cold. What can a person tell from such eyes?
They show nothing. Reveal nothing. Only
in rare instances do they show what really goes on inside him. If only I
could catch him, with a pure sweet smile. If only I could see those
sweet blue eyes, before his tragedy occurred. Before those sweet blue
eyes turned hard. Before he wrapped his heart in a fortress of ice.
Won't you let me?
I love you but won't you let me see?
Can't you let me in?
I look into his eyes but I see nothing.
I look into his eyes and feel nothing. Nothing but the pain. My pain. My
hurt. My tears. Won't you let me? Let me know? Your eyes. In unguarded
moments, they can be so expressive. But I don't know you well enough to
interpret what I see. If only I could turn back time. Or do
something...anything, to bring laughter into your eyes again.
His eyes. Do they reflect anything
anymore? Happiness? Joy? Love? Laughter? All I see is his determination.
Admirable yet you've closed yourself off. From everything. We're your
friends. Won't you let us know? Won't you let us love you and care about
you? Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I can see strange lights
playing in them. Does that mean you feel something? Anything? But often
when I gaze into your clear blue eyes, all I see is your cold, detached
gaze. So painfully objective, an outsider.
Did you make yourself this way? On the
outside looking in? Or on the inside looking out? Inside the walls
you've placed yourself in. How can I help you? I want to but will you
let me? Let me love you? Let me heal you?
Baby blue eyes. I've heard that said
once. I disagree. Nothing childlike about them. Not innocent, as I've
said before. Not at all. His eyes aren't those of a baby's. More like
that of a sad angel. Yes that's it. An angel's eyes. A tragic angel...or
maybe an avenging one.
You fight for her. You will one day
accomplish your mission. But after that then what? What will happen to
you? You've dedicated your life to this mission. Poured your whole being
in it. But once it's gone what's left? The next step is healing, but
you've never let that wound heal. Never let nature run it's course.
Looking into your eyes is a revelation.
It is like being offered a glimpse of a puzzle. Like staring into the
depths of the sea, full of secrets and darkness. Yet when I reach out,
the walls come down again. You keep me out. You keep everyone out.
Looking into your eyes is like seeing
the center, the heart of ice. The blue in them reflect only my face.
What I feel for you is so visible. Do you disdain me for it?
A tragic angel. With a face of
perfection and eyes that would make fairies weep in envy. Yet what is
there? I can feel it. The fire of your vengeance blazing beneath the
ice. Will it one day burn out? And with it gone what will become of you?
It is what drives you. After that will you lose your meaning in life?
You try so hard, to keep us caring for
you. But you've failed. I love you. We all do. We can't help it. I don't
pity you, but I pity the poor child you were. I sympathize with your
loss, but I won't let it keep me from helping you.
You're not made of ice. You try to be.
When I touch you, when I look at you, I can see the effort you put to
block it all off. All passion for anything other than your mission.
It's foolish. Staring into the clear
blue pools of your eyes. They seem clear, without guile, artifice,
devoid of anything hateful. But yet you're so full of anger. How
deceptive. Like a shallow pool you dive into only to discover it's true
depth, much higher than your head. And you drown.
Your eyes. Like a clear sky above. What
a lie. Not at all clear. Full of dark troubled clouds. To weep the tears
of angels for you.
All of us want you to be happy. I know
she would. She would want you to go on. Can't you see that? Everything.
The sun reaches out, it's golden rays seeking to fill you with warmth,
to melt the ice around you. The moon offers her tender light to heal.
The willow weeps, hoping that your grieving would be eased as well.
But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you've never
grieved. Is that why your eyes, seemingly limitless, can become hard
orbs?
So fascinating. Your eyes that show so
much yet reveal so little. Leaving everything to one's own
interpretation. I don't understand because you won't let me.
Your refusal, your rejection, it pains
me. Leaving me cold and numb, wanting to weep your tears for you,
willing to take your pain away from you. I'd bear your burdens myself if
it would help ease you. But I can't.
All I can do is look into those eyes,
his light blue eyes, and hope.
I can only look into his clear blue
eyes and give my caring. Give my concern. Give my tenderness, and pray
that it is enough.
To give my love and hope it will heal.
I can't be sure. I can only hope and can only love you.
Ai shiteru.
