text: (This is a repost because I don't know how to follow rules) I dream of being in her arms. I don’t know who she is, but I love her more than I can describe. I dream of the softness of her torso, the curves of her body -- the love reflecting from the flora-filled deep green ponds of her eyes. So deep that I see nothing but the eyes and the skin of her arms as they wrap around me in their embryonic embrace. Night after night I see her, feel her. I dream of the safety I feel in her arms. The tenderness; the feeling of someone caring for you more than you care for yourself. I also dream of the intensity of it all, sometimes waking in the cold of night to the cold of sweat puddles on my sheets. I dream of those giant juniper eyes staring down at me -- never blinking. Always the eyes, never anything else. When I gaze into them, I see only the rippled reflection of myself in the water -- what I could be. I see different iterations of myself in the future and the timelines that lead to them. I see far-flung adventures, successful careers, homelessness, bad investments, crime, great friendships created and destroyed, birth, love, family holidays -- a life and lives I could never dream of. And her eyes. Always her eyes. In every image she was there -- staring back at me looking in, mocking me. Not with any expression in her face, for she had none (save for the eyes, always the eyes), but by her mere existence. I try to look past her, look to my future and my life, but she remains. The eyes, always the eyes. Night after night I see her, feel her. When I am awake, it seems like there is something missing, something I’m forgetting or not paying attention to. People say I have shifty eyes. I get inquisitive looks from women on the street, in stores, at work. None of them are her, though. I want to explain, make someone understand, share my life with them. I understand now that no one but her will ever understand. When I am awake, all I can think about is her -- and her eyes, always the eyes. Green is my favorite color, specifically the juniper shade. I think I’ve always liked it. Or hated it. Coworkers and friends have asked why -- I tell them it just speaks to me. When I am awake, I stay in my apartment when I’m not at work, lest she see me in the waking world; I fear what her eyes would bring mine in this reality. Truthfully, I wish she would come knocking soon -- I expect she will in the future but the nights are so very cold here. Night after night I see her, feel her. And when I finally meet her when I am awake, I shall not be afraid. I have seen in her eyes what I could, should, and would be. I have seen in her eyes what I truly fear. Myself.