Love Stories ~ shorts :)

In the eyes of another

So this is a self love journal (in a sense that someone else wrote this and they were in love with you)

Enjoy!!

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The day I stumbled across Sophie, I didn't know what hit me.
Time almost seemed as if it had stopped just to accomodate for my sensations. Like the world halted on its axis so I could take her in. Her chestnut hair was frizzy and messy, shaped unevenly around her face and eyes. Her eyes, caught in sunlight, they're a mysterious blue- grey, only changing to sea-green as you near. Her smile was crooked, teeth seeing better days, yet still in amazing shape. I noticed a blemish on the right side of her forehead, but it was as if it made the final touch to her countenance.
I got to know her. How could I not? I watched as she read and wrote, sung and danced, turned life into wonders of her own. Time with her always flew by, but in those moments, I knew for sure I was in love with her.
I tend to think I am an observant person. I know when she's really, genuinely happy, I know when she's barely managing her anger. I can see when she's ready to break down and rant about all of life's horrors and regrets, all of her mistakes and arguments. Anyone else would've been bored, tired of her constant venting, but I loved the sound of her voice. I loved the way she felt safe opening up to me. I loved her for her mistakes and misfortunes, because that makes her human, and I just fell deeper into the rabbit hole of love.
Though she opened up to me and let me share her emotion, there were other things she kept tucked away in a place no one could breach. She never likes to see herself in the mirror, was always pushing at the skin and bone, hoping to mold herself to perfection. She longs to be seen for more than her grey eyes and the shape of her body. She wishes for someone to love her for her reading, to be proud of her singing. She wants to be noticed by someone who would teach her the things she would never even consider learning. She wanted someone just like her.
But I was right there. She just didn't see me.
But, I'm alright with that. I'll wait for her, even if it takes days, months, years; I'll always stand by her side, always be there to offer my shoulder. There is a look in her eye when anyone would walk across the room - boy or girl - that says more than any words or writing or singing could say. Perhaps there is more than longing for the right person. Maybe it is the absence of a belief that she is worth loving, the idea that no one would ever even try to see through her skin and bone and chest and waist. To find the real treasure.
But that is what I've learnt about love: it's found in the places unexpected. Until she realises that, her arms dotted with acne will be my walls, sheltering me from the storm, her thick locks of auburn hair will be the roof. Her eyes will be windows, her mouth the door, her brain the light that powers all, and her heart, the fireplace. The beautiful chaos that rages within. And I hope that someday, my skinny arms will keep the cold out, my heart would burn bright enough to warm her soul. I hope that someday, I will be her home, just as she is mine. And she always will be.