From her skin that reminds me of the delicate cream I pour into my coffee on cold mornings to her hair that resembles a bouquet of camel and toffee roses; the way her brows softly furrow with worry, and how her laugh carries the most elegant of harmonies. Her smile so bright and gorgeous I want to weep, and how she tells me good night before she goes to sleep. Whether it be result of being struck with one of Eros' arrows or chemicals in this brain of mine; I feel the need to hold her in my embrace for the rest of time. "Oh, Eliza my dear, why can't you just look at me in the way I look at you? Is it too much to want to be loved by you? Is it too much to want a bright light in this dark space?" These are the questions I want to ask her daily, but I fail to utter a word and only stutter when I see her hand in another's. And when I look up to see such a loving look in her eyes, all I can do is stand on my own with tears in mine.
