Friends tell me that you look at me with sweetness in your eyes. But you’re only doing it when I’m looking somewhere else. Because the moment I look at you, they tell me, you stop looking at me. You look away from me.
You don’t make direct eye contact. Not with me. It’s too intense for you. Which is such a pity, really, because you have such beautiful eyes — and I’d love to look at them looking back at me. And if there is some loving look you get on your face whenever you look at me, I’d love to see it.
But it’s too much for you. Too intense. So I have to rely on what other people tell me about how you look at me. That you clearly adore me, that it’s obvious to everyone else.
Maybe that’s the problem with being too close to something. We always talk about getting right up close in order to get a good view, but sometimes it can make the opposite happen. You can end up so close that you can’t really see it, not really.
And that’s why I keep expecting you to go away. That’s why I keep expecting to lose sight of you. Because you’re so close that it makes it hard to see you. You’re not something I see on the horizon, from a distance. You’re right there. Always right there.
I keep expecting you to go away because I’ve never seen the loving look that other people say you give me. And you only look at me when I’m looking somewhere else.
Because of all this, I keep expecting you to go away. To suddenly not be there.
But it never happens. You’re still here. Still by my side. After all these years.
And I’m starting to believe you’re not going anywhere. Yes, even though every time I look at you, you look away.