Ocean Eyes
Tranquility is a gift that must be invented.
The sweltering summer sun is no match for the sweet breeze and the even sweeter company. A picture framed by hotels, towering above the patrons on the sand below. Flowing with soft hills, like it’s an ocean of its own; but, the peaks burn the soles of my feet. Yet, you seem to glide right through, because the picture is accepting of you.
And I turn my head then to the sea, sprawling forward. Flipping foam as if mimicking the quickly fanned pages from a book, but instead of small, pocketed, gusts of air…it is a soothing mist…like a kiss. A thank you for paying attention. And even if you’re not, you may still catch it.
The ocean’s crests are caught in your eyes, crackling and crashing, yet exuding elegance and grace. I can’t help but to stare (hoping that you know the eyes are what I’m looking into).
And you ask, “What are you thinking about?”
My mind answers, “a beautiful connection.”
Hi
The world looks different from where I stand, as opposed to you. The image that my eyes hold is that of a natural beauty, the kind of breathless beauty that stronger men cat-call to, or whistle about; but, one that I admire. And with all my verbal training the words are digested. If I fain an attempt to speak, I tend to play jump rope with my tongue, stumbling through each slurred syllable. Again, all this over my mind’s perception of beauty. And it is perceived, then received, as fictitious memories. The thought that I don’t have to feel sadness during a stormy day; instead, the rain falls only to write your name upon my mind and on the ground, a sprinkling sweetness, juxtaposed with the common notion of gloominess. But, still I can’t be comfortable, your eyes can pierce through me…or so I think. Two wonderful orbs that hold every secret within on lockdown…and somehow through osmotic connection between our eyes, I hope for you to accept that all I’m trying to say to you is “Hi.”
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