Behind those green eyes
Yes, I said it before. And, yes, I’ll say it again. My heart is fixed. My mind is sure. She is the one I love. There is no shame in loving a woman. Perhaps by stating so often how I feel I seek to erase the years she was neglected and misused, traumatized and abused. Whatever she’s doing now and whomever she’s with, I hope she knows how much this (admittedly pathetic) man loves her. But does she love me? Who knows what secrets her heart keeps?
When someone we care about greatly is absent from our lives, we sometimes go through wild theatrics to bring them back to us in small ways. It may be a dream – the unconscious speaking for us – or it may be a thousand thoughts in a thousand ways directed their way. For me, it was those and more. I sought her in everyone I met. What I sought lived only behind her green eyes, not someone else’s. But, a starving man has heightened senses. In the lack of her, I found pieces of her around me. I became rich in her, if only in my mind.
At the grocery store, my heart conjured her speaking an aisle away. My ears, more dull these days than ever, could clearly hear her inflections, the rising and falling of her happy voice. It’s a song I’ve always loved. True, no one sounds exactly like her, but maybe my brain layers in a Cindy filter so I hear what I want to hear (how many times have I heard her say “yes” to me?). Her voice – sometimes breathy and sometimes not – comes to me as often as I see her smile. Oh, that smile. If she ever wants her way, she knows she can just smile and it's hers.
I miss her. I miss everything about her, well, because she isn't in my life and she isn’t mine. I miss the sound of her voice, her laugh, her smile, her smell, and even the way she walks. Just to name a few, of course. I could go on all day.
When I take my evening walks, sometimes I see her, chin held high, oblivious to me. (It’s not really her; I just see what I want to see.) And then I must cross the street to maintain the fantasy, a fantasy generated by desire and hope and things I don’t even understand. She’s there and then she’s gone. Oh, I wish she would stay.
You can say I’m pathetic. I’d say it myself. Indeed, I have. But I don’t see it that way. I know how it looks. Not gonna lie. But, when a man finds the woman he wants to love forever (or whatever he has left), he does so with everything he has. I'm not fixated on her. I just know what I want. I’m convinced she’s the one for me. Why would I bother with anything else? The perfect woman lives in my heart. I wish she lived in my life. I long to hear her thoughts and experience her laughter. I want to be the one who wipes away her tears and holds her hand and kisses her goodnight.
I see her when another woman tilts her head or leans in, mirroring whomever she’s with. I see her smile everywhere. Her gorgeous green eyes. Her beautiful hair. Her fantastic body. I love everything about her. Everything about her is unique, but I’ve glossed over the differences in those I see just to see her again. It’s completely sane, regardless of how it sounds. Nod and read along.
Practically speaking, am I good enough to be in her life? I am if God says I am. Though I’m confident I won’t hurt her in the ways she’s accustomed, that’s really an answer to a different question, isn’t it? I won't hurt her. I would care for her as the treasure she is. I would lay my life down for her. (Let’s hope that isn’t necessary. I still have a few movies I want to watch.) But it’s true. I prepared myself in every way I could think of just to be in her life. Things she’ll never even know. Things she never saw in my heart. How could she have seen them? But it was all there. Maybe she didn’t understand what she saw. If she missed it, then we both missed out. I can handle her seeing how much I love her and it not being good enough, but it’s hard to think she may not have even seen it. I would have turned the world upside down for her. If there was anything in me that could possibly hurt her, it was put to death. I cleaned myself, or, rather, God cleaned me — my heart and mind and soul. Maybe she was just an avenue to get me where I was supposed to go. If so, thank you, dear girl, for providing so much inspiration to change for the better — to be a better man.
I don’t get out much. I see her mostly in my dreams, splayed gloriously across a screen in my mind behind closed curtains, my eyes seeing the unseen. Those dreams linger. They take hold in the waning minutes of sleep and hopefully last until I lay down again. It’s the only way I get to spend a whole day with her.
Sometimes I smell her perfume when I’m walking in the fragrant breeze, flowers filling in for her warm skin. Sometimes I think I see her driving somewhere, always oblivious to my presence. In her absence, I manufacture her everywhere. Is this how the rest of my life is going to be? If this is all I can have, I’ll take it. A woman like her is meant to be admired. And, oh, I do. I always have and always will.
I would do anything to bring her back into my life. It may seem like I’m a lost cause and I’ve really gone off the deep end, but … well, I kind of agree. No, I’m fine. I just miss her, and I have a very active imagination. It’s what you do when you want someone back. People like me can get away with it. If anyone else does it, though, they’re crazy. Really, I’m harmless. Just hopelessly devoted.
I really hope we do end up together. Wouldn't it be amazing to find out what it's like to be with the woman of my dreams? To be with an absolute treasure? The woman I've admired since she was a girl? Someday, I'll find out. What a thing to look forward to – to finally love in its entirety what lies behind those beautiful, green eyes.
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