Breaking the Rules for Romance

Your eyes spoke

volumes

to me across the small house.

I should’ve been distracted

by the flashing lights,

the moving bodies,

and the giant noises everywhere.

However, your eyes were always something I

noticed.

They were always there

watching

waiting

for me to look back.

At the next party

I thought it was a coincidence

that those eyes found me again.

I thought those piercing yellows,

mixed with a slight tent of green,

were temporary,

gone after the last party.

And yet,

they were back.

I fought the urge

to move my body slightly closer to those eyes.

A couple steps to the left

and I would no longer be in the center

of the dance floor, but rather,

slightly closer to you.

But I stopped

random hookups in high school.

I’m sure that was all you wanted after all.

After a few more parties your eyes became more

apparent.

More

forceful.

More

there.

They didn’t hold the same tone as before.

They looked more unbalanced,

unstable.

I had grown custom to those eyes.

I knew them.

They were calming,

relatable,

excitable,

beautiful.

But these eyes were new.

There were new ceases

making them curve differently,

new hues making them look

unnatural.

I didn’t like it.

Despite never looking back at you,

I know exactly how those eyes were

meant to look.

And I didn’t like these new ones.

After more outings,

I want to give in.

I want to go over,

to your smug little corners you always find

to watch me,

and ask what changed?

Why do they look so different?

Why are your eyes drifting?

Why do you feel less involved?

Is there someone else?

Was I not good enough?

I don’t.

But I

really

want to.

At the next party,

I look up at you.

I break every rule

I have ever put in place for myself

And reach out.

Our eyes meet

for seconds

I feel the world swell with quickening heartbeats,

my chest fill with clean air,

and my mind racing with long missed euphoria.

However, I break contact quickly

with a wink

and look away.

Not my best moment,

but holding your eyes was just too

difficult,

gut-retching,

too against my nature.

At the next party,

you’re definitely closer.

Not a hovering eagle watching over anymore.

You’re more physically close.

That same unstable look that

suddenly became apparent earlier

is still there,

but it’s more charming now

then anything else.

I debate going up to you,

hearing your voice for the first time,

maybe touching you.

I settle for next time I will.

Rule-bending has never been a skill of mine.

Rules were not made to be broken by me.

This party is slower.

I chose it specifically for this moment.

It’s all planned perfectly.

The atmosphere is magnificent.

The moment I go up to you I’m

starstruck.

Your shock makes that fondness in me

even stronger.

Your voice is more gorgeous then you eyes.

Something incredibly difficult to achieve.

The honey that drips off your vocal chords

tastes sweet to any ear, but especially mine.

However, your face up close is a masterpiece.

Every tiny detail

that makes up the human face

has managed to be flawless

on you.

We quickly leave the party,

taking turns complaining

about various things

on the car ride to my house.

And even though that might not be the

most romantic

thing in the world,

it’s still beautiful.

Once we walk past my door

everything comes crumbling down.

Months of waned off stares,

feelings of frustration,

and layers of fabrics.

I was excited.

Maybe too excited.

I came to love the way you caressed my face,

tugged at my lip,

kissed my thighs,

moaned my name.

I loved every part of it.

And the excitement I felt afterwards,

laying in a heap of blankets and limbs curled lovely around each other on my bed,

was enough to send someone to the moon.

However, after sleep finally took me over.

As I was afraid it would, you vanished.

I woke up in a pile of my own blankets and

self-pity.

Last night anything was possible.

This morning nothing would ever make of those opportunities.

You left me a note on my nightstand.

Not disingenuous, just

effortless.

I sat thinking of the signs.

I just couldn’t seem to find any.

Maybe reality decided I needed a moment of

clarity,

so it tricked me into thinking something

good,

real,

could happen for me, for once.

We had a romantic night, I thought,

but maybe that’s just my delusional brain

at play again.

I just really thought this time would be it.

I knew rules weren’t meant to be broken.

I just thought I’d give it one last try,

for romance.