Never My Eyes: Diary Excerpt Series Part Two

Every once in a while, someone will say your name. And my little ears will perk up, even though I try to maintain a neutral face. The conversations shifts, as often happens, and we’ll all feel the atmospheric pulse—you are present, on all our minds. Mine, in particular. Nostalgia sets into my bones, those cowering lines, and all the thoughts I suppress bubble over. Up, up, up, until each tendon is extended in a far-reaching plane towards you. No matter what, no matter who, no matter where—I’m all arrows, strung as tight as the rattlesnake. If I close my lips, but not my eyes, never my eyes, I can keep from falling and wanting.

Sometimes, a song begins to play, without my consent, because that’s not how life works, and your cocky, full-blown arrogance is nodding along, because you let me in on this particular secret. All around to my sides, and to my toes, there are peering eyes and the haze of smoke upon my lips and ears, but never my eyes.

And we do make a cute couple, just like she said—but you don’t agree, because you never agree, because you’re special—different, unique, will-o’-the-wisp. You are surely a will-o’-the-wisp, with your wily ways, inveigling the world while ancient bees wave through the air to find a well of hope. I can still feel your hand pulling me through the crowd, letting me feel like a woman.

It’s a rare moment I actually see you unexpectedly, but it’s humbling. O to be young again, like we were when we met, last year. Seems like an age when I see your face—even your eyes have changed. But not mine, never my eyes. When I see you, it’s a soul-crushing grip from someone who forgets how to hold tight.

More often than not, you rise up, unbidden, into my mind. There’s no speaking, no musical warning, nor an explanation of your visage. But there the will-o’-the-wisp is. There, there, there!

Unwilling, unbidden, undesired.

And you are here. And my mind for one moment, can remember in peace. But then, I am brought to my knees, like I always have been before, but with steely resolve nowhere to be found. The fear falls out, outpouring from my ribs, and my lungs. Straight to bits I fall. My legs are dry, as are my feet, as are my hands, and my cheeks. My mouth and nose survive as well. But not my eyes—never my eyes.