Today I sit at the far end of this room watching him by the corner of my left eye.
So effortlessly handsome.
And is that my favorite shirt?
I love how it clenches onto those muscles.
Today my pretense puts its best foot forward,
As I pretend not to take notice of his presence,
While every muscle in my eye is aching to relish into his existence.
Today, he takes no notice of me.
He huddles his ruffle bag and moves to the opposite side of the table.
He is now facing me, and I, him.
His wine glass fits seamlessly between his hunky fingers.
His face buried into his laptop as always.
Today, glances are stolen.
Two people in a crowded room.
Electric signals sculpt the air.
The crowd is oblivious, but they are all right on target.
Today, my ego is burnt out.
I walk towards his table.
He will raise his head from his laptop and whisper hello in his gutless voice.
He proceeds to calmly fixate his eyes on mine.
In such perfect synchronization.
As he always does.
It melts my heart.
He knows just how to.
I mumble that I was just about to leave when I saw him,
but he won’t be lying today.
He says he pretended to be busy.
But he had spent the last couple of minutes with his fingers crossed that I would say hello.
He looks around the room.
The crowded room where my eyes would always roam and find him.
He will say the place is wrong.
And the time too.
That he would have gone down on one knee and asked me to marry him.
He will fix it, he says.
What exactly, I wonder.
The place or the time?
I will smile. Really smile.
My eyes too.
It won’t be the end.
I will take home pieces of him.
His smell will linger around me. The remnants of his touch. And his eyes on mine.
Maybe tomorrow we will make love the way the sun makes love to the horizon,
without ever touching it.
Maybe it’s all we’ll ever get.
The way the skies and the earth die to hold each other in each other’s arms.
Maybe that’s why it rains, so the skies and the earth get to meet.
Maybe that’s the same for us.
That we should love with our eyes. Wild souls. Electric touch.
Tomorrow, I might not see him again.
Tomorrow, I might taste the sweet charm of deception in his look.
He will leave it with me when he says hello, and seal it with his oh so beautiful goodbye.
Those steel-black eyes.
The tomorrow he should have proposed.
Tomorrow I will close my eyes, and fall in love with how I remember him.
I will fall in love with how he will always look at me.
With the way, nothing will ever change.
His hand in mine, and his fingers running through my skin.
I will remember the sight of his soul when he looked right at me.
Tomorrow I will remember your eyes, love, with mine closed.