Young

Whenever I would look up into his blue eyes, it felt like time stopped. As if everybody around us was no longer important. I could look into them and be brought back to when we were kids jumping into the cold ocean of Maine. Or when we were in middle school and we sat underneath the willow tree watched clouds, the sky was really blue that day. When I saw his eyes, I saw when we first kissed, and the last kiss we had. His eyes brought back the good, and the bad would disappear when I was with him. He would bring me back to when I was young.