slowly fading memories | watty's2016

8

~ Holly Fisher ~

        Dalton.

        Even just his name sent a tidal wave of emotions to come crashing down on me. I lay in the dark, swallowed by my comforter, thinking about him. His laugh. The way his hair always seemed to be perfectly mussed. His sparkly hazel eyes.

        You know, before I met him, I always thought brown eyes made a person look cold, as if even their eyes lacked a spirited color.

        Until I met him.

        His eyes were brown, yet weren't only that. They were beautiful, warm mahogany flecked with gold, and set exquisitely below his eyebrows. They were sincere, but inquisitive and held something behind them, as if he knew something you didn't but probably should. They were shrouded with thick eyebrows that only enhanced the mysterious look on his face, the way he studied you, but never let you in on what he thought. It made you nervous, how his square jaw set, and his eyebrows pulled together; the way his head tilted and his lips pursed in speculation. You didn't know if he was assessing you, but a fraction, a fraction of the part you that you tried your best to ignore, hoped he was.

        He was captivating, mesmerizing.

        I tried not to think of him, but my thoughts always ended up there. He was magnetic and I was hopeless against his pull.

        In my room, shrouded with darkness, I let the tears slip from my eyes. They trailed down my cheeks in silence, speaking everything I couldn't say aloud. They were my release, and my restraint.

        I surrendered myself, there in the solitude of night.

        I could only hope that in the morning, I would be able to pull myself out of the endless abyss I was currently immersed in.