It was a deep Octobers night.
The leaves were turning a deeper orange,
hour by hour.
And there was this wet wind knocking on windows,
nearly shattering their pain.
The sun was setting.
The sky filled with pinks and reds, blended in, making the sky a rainbow once again.
Causing shadows to slowly fall asleep,
leaving their human post with a reluctant ease.
The smell of pumpkin and old spice drifted through the air, calming the wet wind to a stutter of a breeze.
That was when this guy walked out
Bags in hand.
Tornadoes for grey eyes.
He looked like he was leaving something behind,
missing a thing, a person.
The way he walked with this vulnerable sway,
head swung so low,
some may mistake it for a target.
Maybe he had a target weighing him down.
His hands balled into fists.
Knuckles numbed.
There were bruises and scratches on his neck.
Looked like the remnants of a fight,
or of a lovers touch.
There was something that screamed passion in them
A passion his eyes were barren of.
As he walked, bumped into various little things, getting further away from the the door he emerged from.
The curtains begun to ruffle at the sides.
Fingers shaking, clutching the only thing that was real.
And slowly a head poked out.
With a mop of brown curly hair,
quivering arms reached out,
tried to break through the windows,nearly chattering their pain.
And the guy with the tornado for grey eyes,
looked back.
At the window with the brown mop of curly hair and quivering arms.
Took a step back.
Like he was trying to retrace what he had lost,
what was missing.
But he walked away.
Did not look back,
mind screaming, heart slowing.
The mop of brown curly hair had walked out a few breaths and scratches to late.
Glass shatters eyes clung to his retreating figure.
Glass shattered eyes found mine.
Whilst I sipped my tea, a taste of bitter followed.
So I nodded the glass shattered eyes over,
got up and bought them some sweet ice tea.
And sat.
We sat, not talking or looking,
only whispered to lend a body part or two,
We stayed there until 10pm.
Watched the moon come up.
Nodded and left, up my steps.
The next day, was a warm Octobers day.
There was no wet wind the knocked on windows.
No pain to shatter.
The smell of pumpkin and old spice, had somehow been drowned out by the scent of night.
And the sun had come out, after it had tucked the moon away.
I walked out, only to find the quaint little stall already set up.
With the mop of brown curly hair, no longer glass shattered eyes, stood next to the guy with tornadoes for grey eyes.
They were smiling.
They guy looked like he had found what was lost,
It was no longer masked by the sea that had made it sunken treasure.
No longer searching.
And the no longer glass shattered eyes found mine.
Nodded a thank you,
walked away with guy in tow.
Only left a note tapered on to a sweet tea.
And I smiled.
Not because he had come back,
but because the mop of brown curly hair had noticed.
With their glass shattered eyes,
They had noticed.
