Story from 131002

writing story

published 1970-01-01 00:00

updated 1970-01-01 00:00

%date 131002 00:00

I hope one day you come to realize that the light that is reflected, not absorbed, off your eyes speaks words that will never be. You will never be able to cover up your sadness with anything that your mouth may utter when your eyes say 'melancholy'. Glistening with just one too many drops of water, that would leak if you'd let them. Your eyes would never meet mine in moments like those, and only the void filled the gap between expression and emotion. Yet there were other times when your eyes gleamed with understanding and wisdom. They looked at others with a kindness that flowed through one, a kindness one couldn't be be persuaded of because words somehow always seemed false. They didn't represent what they were meant to and felt like poorly drawn images that were said to signify beauty, but all they ever did was look pretty. It's moments like those that you didn't look past someone, or before them but directly at them, in which just one glance filled others with the confidence to speak because they knew they had an audience; all some people want is an audience to perform for. There was never a moment when your eyes didn't convey reams which your body only accentuated, and tongue could never quite form. Perhaps there were times when what that said was not of vital importance, but listening to them was enjoyable nonetheless. Your eyes are where your heart is.