i have always wanted blue eyes. i wanted to be the mystery wrapped in girl that the books told me were heroes. i wanted to be desire. i wanted to be the ocean, to be the sky, to be drowned in and taken like the voices of sirens, tangled in blonde hair, lost at sea. brown eyes must do on the sly what blue eyes will burst out and sing, must skulk around and observe the world, clandestine. but brown eyes see dirt and see skin and see scars and brown eyes know the glint of glowing limbs and perhaps brown eyes are safer. they don’t get lost in the passing of the breeze. 

It’s unnerving at first, realizing you’re happy. It’s been so long, you’re not sure how to act. Life always seems to be a give and take; you struggle and suffer for as long as you can stand and then finally you get something good. For an hour or a day, you get to be happy before the hurt comes back. But here you are, not in the temporary, just until the other shoe drops happiness you’re used to, but actually content. Actually feeling like every thing’s okay. You have bad days, but you know they don’t last. There’s still a worry in the back of you mind that you’ll lose it all, but for now you’re okay.

I’m scared as hell to want you. But here I am, wanting you anyway.

I wish I could find the right way to tell her that at the end of a really stressful week I’d love nothing more than to just sit and laugh with her on her living room floor.