Those copper brown eyes.
Her eyes were copper brown. People usually found pennies as luck, but I found her copper brown eyes. Before I saw hers', I had always thought brown eyes were plain, and I had hated mine for that reason. I always saw blue, green, grey, hazel, and just any color besides dark brown, beautiful. In a way, I conformed to society's view of beauty. When I had first saw her, she didn't look at me. She was walking the other way with her books in hand, heading towards her next destination. I saw her as quiet and was trying to fix myself already, so I continued on.
Then one day, I found those copper brown eyes in a crowd. When I saw them, I stared. I stared at the most beautiful eyes I had ever, and will ever have seen.
Like an addict going through withdrawal, the more I saw her eyes, the less time I could go without them.
No one else had those copper brown eyes, only you. Those eyes were beautiful. You were beautiful. I told myself to not get too close to those eyes because I saw what happened last time I got too close to anything that wasn't mine to keep. So, I distanced myself.
Eventually, as expected, I failed to do so. I found myself craving to know that person behind those eyes. Even if I knew in the end those same eyes would one day hurt me somehow, like everything I got close to always did. As I began to know the person behind those eyes, I started to love her. Those copper brown eyes told me a lot more about her than her actual words did. They told me how she felt. They told me when she was happy, sad, mad, or tired.
In fact, that hurt the most. I watched the world cascade around her as she continued to hold it up. She grew more and more tired as time went on. It became rare that I saw her happy. Her face could lie to me, but her eyes never could.
Even when those copper brown eyes were covered by orange tinted plastic, I still thought they were beautiful. What she didn't understand is that her beauty went far beyond accessories such as brands, clothing, money, and all else she would plaster on herself as a 'flaw'. She was beautiful.
Her eyes became my home. Everywhere I went, I'd look forward to being there. Overtime, I began to also worry. Others could see the beauty in her eyes too, and of course they did. Easily, jealousy overcame me more often than happiness. Any other who was closer to her than I was, made me feel small and unimportant. After a while, I became upset with you for that reason. I began to ignore those eyes at times, even when they were calling for me. I got over this, but it always haunted me that I had done it in the first place.
When you first left, I decided I'd never do such thing again, no matter what. I decided this because if anything had ever happened and you left again, I didn't want it to be the way you'd remember me. Little did I know, "if" was only months away.
I'd do anything just to go home at least once more again.
