My first LJ post, please be gentle
His Eyes
The image of those eyes is so ingrained in my memory that I see them in every dream, in every waking moment. I see them so often I feel it is fair to say that I have become obsessed. Giving up alcohol and cocaine was simple compared to this. Where will I ever find a rehab facility to cure my addiction to tall, dark, Kentuckians?
How long has he been gone? The days all run together now. Time stopped when he left. Publicly and around the other guys I put up a good front. My solo performances are wonderful and of course, I still love working with the guys as much as I did all those years ago. It’s when the lights go out and the silence reigns that I falter.
I found an old picture of us today. How young I was then! I was fascinated by his eyes from the first day we met. He would look at me from across the room and I swear the temperature would go up twenty degrees. I used to make him keep his eyes open when he kissed me. And trust me, you don’t know what fucking is until you’ve been bent over a bathroom sink watching the shadows and heat of pleasure cross green eyes in the mirror.
Sure, I miss what he added to the group. Sure, I miss his kisses. Sure, I miss waking up in his arms. But, I miss nothing the way I miss his eyes.
P.S. If I've done any of this incorrectly, someone with the ability to make corrections feel free to do so with my apologies.
The image of those eyes is so ingrained in my memory that I see them in every dream, in every waking moment. I see them so often I feel it is fair to say that I have become obsessed. Giving up alcohol and cocaine was simple compared to this. Where will I ever find a rehab facility to cure my addiction to tall, dark, Kentuckians?
How long has he been gone? The days all run together now. Time stopped when he left. Publicly and around the other guys I put up a good front. My solo performances are wonderful and of course, I still love working with the guys as much as I did all those years ago. It’s when the lights go out and the silence reigns that I falter.
I found an old picture of us today. How young I was then! I was fascinated by his eyes from the first day we met. He would look at me from across the room and I swear the temperature would go up twenty degrees. I used to make him keep his eyes open when he kissed me. And trust me, you don’t know what fucking is until you’ve been bent over a bathroom sink watching the shadows and heat of pleasure cross green eyes in the mirror.
Sure, I miss what he added to the group. Sure, I miss his kisses. Sure, I miss waking up in his arms. But, I miss nothing the way I miss his eyes.
P.S. If I've done any of this incorrectly, someone with the ability to make corrections feel free to do so with my apologies.