The night is dark, and the silver dots in the sky glisten with hope. A tear falls from my eyes, and my lids close over them. I look up again, and I see a face. The most beautiful face I have ever seen. Her mild freckles pepper the bridge of her nose, and the most interesting pattern crosses her cheekbones. Rosy pink lips loosen over her perfect teeth. Red-as-poppies hair falls and hits her eyebrow, and pieces that aren't ponytail length come down to frame her face. I turn and look away, but the one thing that stands out to me the most, are her sparkling green-forever eyes, and the pretty lashes that line them. A flawless white turns into dark ring of olive as you near the center of them, then get closer, and the olive fades slowly to light green, and a tiny hint of blue hides among the other hues. In the center, sits alone a pitch dark black that seems it could swallow you and fill you up forever. Her eyes flicker, and I catch a sliver of hate, and death, obsession, and disturbance. I feel her deep need to tell somebody something, and then out of nowhere, love. Love for me, love for someone else. Perhaps more, but all I can really be sure of is that those eyes sometimes can forget the face they are staring from. I can see it. Because beyond the clarity, there is a mottled and extensile confused depth. But the beautiful confusion is what can possibly make sense to us both. Though I can see through these resplendent dreams and desires that reside in her dark pupil, it doesn't always matter. Sometimes all that matters is her beauty. All that really matters is the beauty of her soul, and the fact that on this cold, terrifying night, she can still hold my hand. We can both look through the false hope and anxieties, to the shining silvery star, and know that there is something out there for the both of us. She is my Dreamless Sleep; she courses through my veins, touching my nerves to stop them from shaking. She calmly whispers that war does not last forever, and it will be okay. She is my rescue. Her very presence cools me down. It excites me. It soothes my worry. She can see directly into my soul with those eyes of hers. She knows everything about me, and she breathes in rhythm with me as we stride slowly toward the greater good.
A single touch of her hand sends me shooting through the atmosphere to a place where we can do anything. I would die for her, because of what she has done for me, and every day I am reminded of it. Who knows if she is merely my best friend in the world, or whether she is simply the part of me I had not yet found? I couldn't tell you; but when I look into her eyes, something vague, something that lives, thrives, dances in that cold confusion tells me that maybe we don't have to know the answer. Maybe all we have to do is stare on through the dark night with silvery stars and let our pulses scatter, and regroup. Just pulsing in unison until we're gone, and have left nothing more than a glitter of green and midnight floating in the mist.