Yes, I'm corny and cheesy and I'm a sucker for cliches.
And I tend to slide down memories lane whenever I stumble upon a photo of your blue eyes.
I smile and I feel a thrill in my stomach remembering something related to you and me.
It was a passing thing, it didn't have a chance to go further, yet I get that thrill everytime I look deep into your eyes in a past swept away long ago.
I can see the way you're looking at me like a cat in the dark, saying that you don't want me to get hurt, in a cold winter's night.
I can watch the blue Italian shores reflecting in your eyes as you're holding me in your Serbian arms.
I can see the mountains you've climbed behind your cold gaze.
Clear, blue eyes lock the sea, the mountains, the parties, the easiness in them, promising a carefree life, but...
There's something about dark eyes.
Certain dark eyes I've lost myself into some while ago...
The only eyes I could watch incessantly for hours as they watch me straight back, the same way.
The only eyes whose riddle I could never solve for years. There's something irresistibly intriguing about the way you look at me.
That's how I started the mess: I took a glance at you from across the table.
There could be anything behind your shadowy glare: the memories you'll never share with me and I don't want you to, your fears, your hopes and dreams, your broken heart, your disdains, your arrogance, your insecurities, your doubts, your yearnings and your lusts... I could never guess any of them and I never will.
It's not because I don't want to, but the mystery you shroud yourself with nourishes my inspiration.
And that is why I bow to you and am grateful for you not spoiling it.