Fleeting Memoirs

Unrequited

UNREQUITED

You look at him in a room crowded with people but he is all you see. You wonder perhaps if he sees you too.
He does.
The moments before he locks eye contact with you,
The moments when everything else but him seems pointless,
The moments when the stars align with his eyes and the light he radiates outshines the distant sun,
The moments when your breath stops short and your lungs contract, your throat closes up and the words you speak suddenly come out like gunshots, a staccato,
You realize you're a stuttering mess two seconds late,

He laughs.

And it is the sweetest melody you've heard for as long as you can remember.
He looks at you,
Like how the sun looks at the face of the earth dearly.
His smile is a masterpiece,
Each stroke, each curve is the work of an artist,
His eyes hold the entire universe
A gazillion stars and galaxies condensed into two brown orbs,
You look at him in awe,
But he is a million miles away from your reach.
Like the sun, his presence is something you can only appreciate from afar.
Like a masterpiece, touching him is forbidden.
Like the stars laid out in a blanket over you, you are never really able to embrace it.
You step into the battlefield in the darkness and uncertainty of the night,
Your sword crumbles in your hand before you can even fight.
Your heart beats and bleeds for a war it can't even win.

And so he goes.

You stay where you are.

And there is nothing in this world and out, in this moment and in the next, that feels farther away from your reach than he does.