“Young Love”

Story written by Franklin Rayeski – Please do not use without crediting me

          I can never tell her that her eyes are beautiful. Her eyes are blue from a distance, but when sunlight strikes against them, they transform into a lovely lavender hue. I’ve seen countless eyes throughout my life, but her eyes are a masterpiece; they are a manifestation of innocence and splendor; they are the most beautiful work of art in existence. But I can never tell her that.
          It would be strange, you see, for me to just come up and reveal this to her. Even though I’ve known her for a long time, we’ve never spoken to each other in such an intimate way. It would be very, very strange, indeed. I have barely commented on her appearance as a whole—such as “You look lovely today, miss”—let alone compliment the gateways into her pure soul. Only lovers compliment the others’ iris’ after gazing longingly at each other for hours. Unfortunately, we—me and who I admire—are far, far, far from being lovers.
          I can never tell her how I admire her luscious hair. Although she always keeps it hidden tightly under her helm, I’ve seen her slip up and unveil her dainty blonde hair before. I’ve seen how the wind carries those perfect curls and I’ve seen how the sun reflects from every lock. I’ve seen them tumble onto her petite shoulders and I’ve seen her quickly hide her prized possession back into her baby blue bonnet. And I can never tell her that not only have I seen her hair but that I admire it so.
          Maybe someday I can tell her, but that day is far beyond the horizon. I know well that she keeps her eyes on other men—men that are more gracious, chivalrous and pious than I could ever be. However, I also know that I carry one trait that no other man she’s seen carries: devotion. I hold complete and utter devotion to this woman and I am willing to spend a life time waiting for her to be mine.
          You see, I can never tell her how much I love her. I can never tell her how much I want her. I can never tell her how much I need her. Yet, at the same time, I can’t be without her. I’ve lived a sad life but seeing her was like breathing in fresh air for the first time. I have nothing in my life and she’s the only one who can fill the void inside my soul; she, alone, can only give me true solace.
          That’s why I like to feel her essence whenever I visit her in the dead of the night and listen to her sleep. And whenever I sit inches from her peaceful face as close as I can get to her pulsating body and whenever I lay a gentle kiss against her pallor forehead, it gives me the patience I need in order to wait for the day that I can tell her everything.


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