I never knew someone’s smile could be nebulously profound to me. Yes, of course there is this elating feeling that follows the smile that you bring to someone’s face. But this was special in a way I was not fairly accustomed to.
Somehow, she seemed important. She had developed this place that ensured quality and importance. Her aura was original. Something about her soul shouted out loud that she was not someone to be taken lightly.
There was something about her eyes that plead to be understood… Oh! Her eyes! Those beautiful eyes shaped to perfection. The warmth radiated from them with all the world had to offer. They danced animatedly when some spark lit up within her. They dimmed like a dying amber, the spark then remotely dormant, with ashes and coal to mourn for…
They were not the eyes of an angel, no. They were the eyes of a human, who felt, saw and showed everything that was humanly possible. And if you looked in to her eyes long enough, if she’d let you (which she rarely did), it would be like staring into the broken pieces of a mirror.
The girl who so fondly indulged in solving mysteries, herself was a mystery; not to be solved. A paradox, perhaps. For letting someone glare at your soul, with all it’s scattered fragments, is dauntingly horrifying! What if, God forbid, someone attempts to lay a finger on the spot that ached the most? All the years of concealment would drown; all in vain! She’d dare not let that happen. Because vulnerability is vile.
So she smiles, rarely co-ordinating with her eyes. But when her eyes shone, no smile could be compared to that shine, that light; that iridescent moonlight. Her eyes had so many stories to tell, and all I wanted was to read those stories, absorb them and live them, one at a time, for the rest of my life.