Analysis of Amethyst Eyes

I poured myself out onto you, ink on vellum, your

skin gravelly, your alluring purr as smooth as silk and

soft as velvet, but as you folded me in your arms, my words

were lost like cries in the wind. For once, in a long time, I looked

at you, truly looked at you. I looked past the thin sheen of sweat at your

brow, like the dew on the blades of brown grass in the hot summer mornings.

I looked past the spray of freckles that dusted the tops of your cheeks and the bridge

of your nose, the freckles you loathed so much when you were just a boy because they

reminded you of flecks of glitter. I looked past the blonde locks that ringed your face like a

golden halo. Your hair is longer now, than it was, when we were kids, but I doubt that even

now, you’d let me braid it. I looked past all the little details I’d noticed about you

when we were growing up, and now, I saw a man with amethyst eyes and a

longing washed over me like a wave, pulling me down with the undertow.

I long to know *this you* as I once knew you, so well, like the back

of my own hand. So, with salt and foam, sweat and ink and in

every sweeping wave, drag me into those lovely amethyst

eyes. If the eyes truly are the windows to the soul,

pour in like a light and flood on the floor. Show me

what you’ve become, because, while I easily

recognize your flesh and outer

appearance, I long to know

you deeper than looks

could ever go.