His Eyelashes

Written February 3rd 2008.

Some days I was content with merely staring at him from a short distance. Other days I desired to indulge in sensual surrealism with he who sported the dental ad smile and a head of beautiful hair, silky strands tactically touching his radiant face.

But it was his striking eyes of temperamental hues that were mostly the being of my distraction and this was not even necessarily due to the changing colours of azure to ice.

It was his eyelashes.

Those soft, blonde eyelashes,

That never quite touched the uppermost of his cheek. Sometimes I longed for them to do so, other times I suspected the longing derived from a deep desire to touch that skin myself. Extraordinarily this option was available to me, but there was an air of perfection present that often made him seem untouchable. As if I might spoil him if I did.

Blissful moments between us were no longer a rarity, though never excluding their significance, these were frequent and with notable duration. These were palpable, passionate hours where we would prelong one another's sweet departures.

Hours flitted by without notice, days drifted by however in a different manner- the mornings were never quite long enough and I was constantly aware of the days I would wake up and know that in a matter of those softly rushing hours I would have to bid an emotive farewell to he with the enticing, ivory skin.

But as I left him peacefully to his own thoughts, I remembered the whispered “I Love You”s and the failed attempts at breaking night and watched through the train windows, that appeared a painting of misty fingertips as those eyelashes of his ceased to touch his uppermost cheek.