Window to His Soul

Eyes. Looking glass to the soul.

I've written here about his eyes - they captured me on the highway, they reeled me in when we breathed the same air the first time, and they have continued to enchant me ever since. Intense eyes, incredible eyes, revealing eyes.

So, when I saw his eyes this morning, when I looked inside and saw his pain, felt him, raw, wounded... I wanted to hold him - like somehow by touching him the hurt could seep into me instead. Silly, I know. But I'm stronger right now, I could carry it for him for a while, give him a chance to breathe. I could give it back a little at a time so it wasn't drowning him. I want to be the guy in The Green Mile - I want to be able to take his hurt away.

I know I can't stop it. I know he has to go through it. But not alone though, no fucking way.