I Stare and I Wish
Is it obsession? Or is it love? I think to myself as I gaze adoringly into his sea green eyes. One could say that they are intertwined, the ancient history of love potions they used to be based upon the Latin word for obsession. Except, eventually, those words became synonymous and the potion affecting a person the same. So how do I truly know what I feel when I caress his cheek? How do I know whether it is obsession or love with my tip of my index finger gliding across his skin? I stare and I wish I could grab his hand hold it close to my own. I stare and I wish I was being held so as to hear his heartbeat in sync with mine. I stare and I wish his fingers caressed my skin as he whispered sweet nothings into my ear, ensuring my heart skips a beat and my stomach erupts in a fluttering of the wings of thousands of butterflies. I stare. And I wish. I stare and I wish he wasn’t just a photograph, if only he were mine.