Your Eyes Are The Most Precious

The first time I looked into your eyes they were filled with disgust, confusion and distance. I could see you were terrified and that you hated every single moment of our interaction. I felt that too. I felt vulnerable and exposed, and absolutely fucking stupid. We both kept our cool, but the feeling of your eyes that day will never leave me.
I saw your eyes again. This time still full of confusion, but your interest was perked the moment we sat down on cold, rod iron chairs outside of the coffee shop. I could feel my butt cheeks freezing together and then eventually to the chair. I could not feel my nose after about 20 minutes of nervous conversation making. I could see you trying to burry yourself deep into your jacket to try to escape the frigid air. I remember your eyes when we finally communicated that we were fucking freezing and finally reached an understanding with one another. I remember your eyes when I hugged you goodbye for the first time.

Again I saw you shortly after for another coffee date, but at the time I didn’t think of it as much as a date but rather an obligation to one another. This time your eyes were much warmer like the latte I sipped and the air around us. Another two hours pass and we departed each other once more.

Two weeks passed.

I saw you again in a whirl of faces, and at first I just thought you were another face. I was innocently wrong. I yearned for your presence that night, wanting to catch up for the two weeks that had passed without you. Although I still did not know who you were, I began to feel the ever-present feeling of wanting your company. Your eyes peered over to me from across the crowded room while we were both being bombarded with conversation that was just meaningless background noise. I finally made it to you. Still many faces surrounded us, but I could feel your desire to only have me there. Your eyes gleaming, your laugh roaring, the tension undeniable.

These encounters happened again, and again, and I wondered when I could finally kiss your fucking lips. By this point I was yours, and as much as I wanted to shout this to the world, I stayed humbly to myself.

It wasn’t until we sat in your dining room, slightly intoxicated clammering about who knows what, when we met eyes and finally kissed. I remember trying not to roll away, partially because we were both in rolly chairs, and partially because your kiss blew me away. It was electric-immediately passionate and hot. I wanted you right then and there, but we reserved ourselves and passionately made out into the wee hours of the night, eventually intertwining with one another.

Then I finally was able to fuck you. I feel okay saying fucking because I like when you fuck me. I like being able to fuck you. But I also am making sweet love to you at the same time. Making love is fucking. When we fucked for the first time I will never forget your eyes. Your sweet golden, honey, warm, deep eyes. I could lay and stare for hours. The next best thing to laying and staring is fucking you and keeping eye contact the whole time. The first time you went down on me I’ll never forget how you looked at me. With your tongue buried in my clit, you look up to me not to see if I am enjoying, but for your own pleasure and full effect. I see mostly the whites of your eyes but at times I get a glimpse of honey and large pupils from the dim light. I will remember every moment you’ve went down on me with those beautiful eyes.

I’ve woken up to those same warm eyes, eagerly waiting to watch me awake and become human again. Those eyes watch me in my most vulnerable state and protect me and keep me safe.
Those eyes that I’ve woken up to tell me I am beautiful and that I am worth so much. Those eyes tell me how happy they are to be there with me. And even when they aren’t with me, they will be dreaming about me. They will replay our moments together and dream about the future moments.

Your eyes are not with me now. They are far away. Although I may hear you speak, your eyes are not here to speak to me. Without your eyes I am lost. I am alone. I have myself and my eyes to guide me, but I am longing for yours. The presence of your eyes complete me and I can feel them piercing deep into my soul, my whole being, and my existence of whom I am. When I have your eyes with me I feel direction, I feel love, I feel you.

Your eyes are the most precious being to me, and without them I am sightless.