Your eyes spell hope.
Your eyes spell hope. They speak possibility and echo the idea of difference: that I can trust the warmth of this moment.
Though I may not know how long it may last, or how deeply I may ever enter this gaze, it whispers safety. It holds my hand and tells me to rest for this moment longer, and just wait for the story to unfold.
Your smile sings of promise and new hope. Not the naïve promise of a forever, or even the air of certainty, but just enough to let me know that it will be okay. Your words hush and cool and pardon, highlighting the fact that you aren’t like them; that this time you care. That though the future is unpredictable and unlikely, it is far better to savour the precious time we share than recklessly dismiss the idea as an end before it has even begun.
The truth is, I don’t know where I am, or what is going on. But you bring the sort of stability and assurance that allows me to finally come back up for air. Though this sense of security may be limited, it is more than refreshing. Because, for the tiniest moment, I’m granted the serenity of a true friend; of someone who is ready hold the girl who is trampled and in denial.
Because you bring me those clichés I didn’t think I that was prepared to feel. Because in your eyes, everything is better: everything feels better, sounds better and feels better.
Because (truthfully) everything with you is better.