I love with my eyes. I love what I can touch and smell; it must be a hangover from foraging times. To me, people leave no ghosts, no trail of crumbs, no lingering scent. I love with my heart too, but I need my eyes to feel it.
I love with my eyes because I can’t feel in memory. I am always looking the wrong way. But someone sneaking into view can bring back laughter in the kitchen, laying on a sun-scorched green, arms pushing through a borrowed top. My eyes shine because a light has been switched on. I remember you. In that moment I feel so much love because I can see.
I love with my eyes but know love does exist blind. Grief is love with the awareness of never seeing again. So I love with my eyes as a gesture of faith; I will see you. I wait for the time when you’re in front of me again. One day, on the street somewhere, in the sunshine or the grey, and then again and again throughout my life. I know I will be able to love with my eyes many times.
I love with my eyes because I believe in a kind of fate. I believe that people who are meant to be in your life will be. I believe that you never really lose anyone you were meant to keep. I believe that somehow we end up in the right place. And if I never see you again, it will be a separation predestined. It’s okay, because the brain is wired to forget. My eyes will no longer light up with remembrance, and love by sight will fade. What’s meant to be will be.
That’s all this time. Leave a comment with your thoughts! Goodbye for now (◕‿◕)♡
@icantstoptalkingblog 
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