a world where you cannot see faces. they are a blur to everyone. the way we watch for body language is by watching hands. we know what a smile sounds like, but the image slips away.
except: love. the people you love. you only know the eyes of your parents, of your sister. you only have seen the faces of your aunt who always stops by for wine.
the first time you saw brown eyes it was in your mother. for a long time you thought she was the only person with eyes like that. like oak trees. you thought it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. later when you were in forth grade you’d meet a boy who had eyes like a fawn. you’d help him not reverse his letters. and you’d stare at his eyes in awe.
you meet your best friend because you both see each other’s nose first, and then the picture develops. she has a wild set of teeth and you love her for that, for how she smiles so big that it blinds you. her cheeks have the only freckles you’ve ever met, and that makes them golden.
you meet people slowly. sometimes you can catch small moments on trains, in cities, in dark theaters. the momentary love of a person who lets you cut them in line - a little shadow on their cheekbone. the flash of a wink from a store clerk. it’s gone before you can tack it down, but it leaves you blushing for a long time after.
the first girl you kiss has acne scars. you settle your hands on them. she is beautiful and flawless. she helps you figure out your math problems. she sees everyone’s face, because she loves everyone. it is different for her, because she’s aromantic. she’s the kindest mathematician you’ve ever met.
a world where beauty doesn’t exist. you only know the faces of the ones you love and that’s it. they are beautiful because they’re yours. because you love them. because seeing them for the first time changed everything.
the first time you meet her, you freeze. it’s the way her eyelashes look while she reads. your heart tries to break through your chest and kiss her pink lips (you can see her lips!) and your hands shake. you settle for walking by her table only to trip. she doesn’t laugh. she asks you if you’re okay. you want to say: i am now. i am now. god, what a perfect face you have.
your face, in the mirror, sometimes clear, often not. sometimes you don’t look at all, worried about what you’ll find there. you think - maybe i have a straight nose? but you’re not sure. it is hard for you. a lot. but one day, after a bad night you somehow survived: you catch sight of your eyes. brown like your mother’s, full of light and amber, a smile at their corners. and you think: it’s nice to meet you. and you never forget. you’re beautiful too. even if you don’t always see it.
prguitarman
blakekathryn
yousharknotpass
ellievsbear
germansingergirl
