On Him

She has sat before you many a time. Watched your tempestuous eyes drift from the mottling of freckles on her nose to something else entirely, something not quite there- An obscurity in the air maybe...

As silence settles on its stomach between the two of you, laying its head languidly on its hands, in the moments when neither of you speaks- because you are simply you and she is simply she and, sometimes, that needs no further explanation- your drooping lashes begin to flutter. Unnoticeable to all but her. But she does not smile or laugh, as she usually would if you were any other star she had placed in her sky. She stares, feeling her own eyelids begin to tremble, aching for the fancied closeness that comes with imitation; for the hope that, perhaps, if she tries hard enough, she might read your mind.

It’s strange. How your eyes seem to flit to wherever your mind is leading you, incapable of staying fixed on one particular place as you wander through the countless sounds and colours carried within your mind. As it considers all things important; all things beautiful and mundane and tireless.

But still, selfish as she is, she can’t help but wonder if your mind ever wanders to her?