We walk on dry autumn grass. I pretend to not look at you while we walk. Stolen glances and swift gazes. You smile because you know it. It’s not through words that we speak, we realize. I get lost in your deep set hazel eyes. Somehow, that’s how I find myself too. You pick up twigs and branches with your gentle hands. I smile as you marvel at the crisp wooden pattern and dried olive hue. Our minds are woven intricately with a fragile thread. We call it love. Because it’s the details that meet my eye. You could ask me how and why I find beauty in everything that you do, in every action of yours that I see. But I won’t tell you. I, myself, can’t define it.

We sit across from each other on a distant misty hill, our silhouettes blanketed in tangerine tints. We watch the sun go down. Softly. Silently. I see the warm afterglow of sunrays in your eyes. It’s like I am seeing my own reflection in them.

Serenity washes over me. Being with you is all it takes for me to find myself. And as I realize the enormity of meaning your presence brings to me, how badly I start to wish I could put that feeling of gratitude in words. But I know I can’t. I know I can’t because it’s you. So I let my eyes speak to you.

And so we speak with the movement of our eyelashes; our mellowed visions dancing to the symphony of love. And when it ends, I see a translucent drop about to fall from your orbs- and I just wait patiently to be the one who catches that molten pearl.

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