Her eyes are heavy. Those eyes are blue and icy. As I look into those eyes I could cry. If I could search those eyes I might find the answer to many mysteries in their depth. I do not. I only gaze at the surface. It’s a calm and glistening surface. The sun reflects against those eyes, and at first glance, they seem so innocent. But I fear that if I were to venture further I may crash through thick, frozen layers. If that were to happen I may spend my last moments with no breath.
Suffocated by the darkness. Her eyes are greater than any lake that I explored as a child. They are expansive. They are endless. I hear my mother hollering to me. “Stay away from that lake,” she’d say in a stern voice. Just as I had crept upon the frozen water as a child, I do not listen. I stare into her eyes longer than I should.
If I were any other man, I might be distracted by the fullness of her naturally stained lips. I cannot be bothered by these details. Her eyes are more than eyes. I know that behind the glass there are thoughts that the toughest man could not endure. In their calm silence, her eyes whisper “danger”.
I know nothing of her suffering. I want to hold her arms in mine and tell her that there are days that are warm. There is sunshine and beaches that stretch against the shores in the summer. There is swimming, and laughing. There is a time of year when the water, when the expanse, is to be enjoyed instead of endured.
I say nothing. She watches me closely. I feel myself fall through her eyes. I am plunged beneath the surface. The weight and heaviness of her thoughts push me down further. I cannot escape. If I could, I would not. I am content to stay here. I am trapped forever in her icy hands. I am cold, but I am loved.