In Leonardo's eyes,
she glittered under the mirrorball of the dance floor,
her many expressions reflecting on the shining ball above her,
her qualities illuminated for all to see.
In Leonardo's eyes,
she was the angel of perfection,
without flaws,
without faults,
without defects,
without sin.
In Leonardo's eyes,
she was the epitome of mystery,
a crime yet to be solved,
a book yet to be read,
a name yet to be known.
In Leonardo's eyes,
she was the apple of his eye,
the sparkle on a crystal stone,
the neon lights that surrounded them both.
In Leonardo's sparkling, entranced eyes, the girl before him was the one.
In Leonardo's eyes, Claire would be the one to love him.
In Leonardo's eyes, he was nothing more than a knight in plastic armor,
holding a sharp blade of foam,
bearing a name that sounds honorable,
but a reputation that was quite the opposite.
In Leonardo's eyes, he was the shadow against her bright flame,
the fallen angel that watched her quietly,
the second lead that kept his feelings hushed,
the man who wanted to love her unlike any other,
but knowing all too well that he can't.
In Leonardo's eyes, the throbbing feeling in his chest was love,
his flushed cheeks every time their eyes met was love,
his trembling hands that held hers was love,
the feeling of overwhelming want and desire was love.
In Leonardo's eyes, he saw himself falling in love.
. . .
But I know all too well that he isn't.
. . .
In Leonardo's eyes, she was merely just the post-it-note on a desk,
the notification that dings on a tablet,
the small, red notes on an edited essay,
reminding him of a girl he once thought he loved deeply,
a girl that has a place in his heart,
a girl he could never stop thinking about,
a girl he could never stop loving no matter how hard he tried.
A girl by the name of Rosaline.
In Leonardo's eyes, his overwhelming attraction to Claire was love.
But in my eyes, this love was nothing but a mere rebound after Rosaline's departure,
nothing but a cushion that made the fall hurt less,
nothing but insurance in case he may break.
In Leonardo's eyes, Claire was his new love.
But in my eyes, Claire was just Rosaline's replacement.
Because of Leonardo's eyes, Claire's death became inevitable,
Harold's end became fate,
John's demise became cannon,
Pete's holy hands got bloodied.
Because of Leonardo's eyes,
because of his sad eyes,
because of his young eyes,
because of his lovesick eyes...
Because of Leonardo's eyes...
Because of his beautiful, magical, mesmerizing blue eyes,
the line between change and love got blurred,
his blindness hurting those around him,
and killing the one person he vowed to love and protect.
Because of Leonardo's eyes, doom was set in stone.
If Leonardo had not used Claire as his rebound,
if Leonardo had not used Claire as his replacement,
if Leonardo had not used the same love he had for Rosaline for Claire,
then maybe, less people would have gotten hurt.
.
.
.
.
.
This time will be different.
This time Leonardo will not exchange longing stares,
plan clandestine meetings,
and marry Claire.
This time will be different.
Because I will protect Claire at all cost.
She is not a rebound for your first love.
She is not a replacement for your first girl.
She is not the same girl that left that special imprint on your heart.
She is not your Rosaline.
And nor will she ever be.
YOU ARE READING
A Prose With No Direction
SpirituellesA prose with no direction. A mind with no guidance. A human without a purpose. That is the kind of story I hate to be. That is the kind of story I, unfortunately, am.
