THOSE BIG EYES.
We sat in my car, music played and she stared into my eyes. There was an eagerness to her, An excitement. Her eyes smiled, her whole body shimmered with presence. I told her some story about how concerts had to be small rowdy, dance-able affairs. How I didn’t count any concerts that I had gone to if I couldn’t get lost in the crowd and dance till the music stopped. Music played and people walked across the street ahead of us. I had parked in a street that intersected Hollywood Blvd. Hollywood illuminated the windshield as if we were watching a movie at a drive in. People walked, cars drove, and my music played. Everything dark except for the scene in front of us. She faced me, and I faced the street in front. She had big eyes, short black hair, and lips that I kept glancing at.
Moments like these, I bear my soul. Some people guard themselves, protect their hearts. It’s the smart move. She’s a stranger, the world tells me I should. I don’t. I tell you how I love to love. I tell you how I want to be happy, but I feel the most when I’m not. I tell you how I love and how I fear. I want you to know me, I want you to see me, and tell me its ok. It’s a weakness really. I want what I give. I meet someone and I love them. I understand and know you.
Souls are blind, stumbling in the dark, always reaching for each other.
Turning to her, she kissed me. I kiss back. I felt the passion, the need, the wanting and I gave it back. I could feel it and I was a fiend for it. We kissed, I pulled her in and held her neck. She trembled and sighed and kissed me back. We’d stop, and she’d look at me. Those big eyes.
“Someone’s walking by”
I didn’t care. My hand under her blouse, her pulling me in, I feel the yearning and I need it. Chasing what I once had. Feeling her need and for a moment, I can give it back. Pulling her shirt down, music playing, nothing but you, my music, Hollywood and I.
Those big eyes.
I walked her to her car. She held my hand. Our hands swung as we walked.
“Drive safe, Ill text you when I get home.”
She got into her car and rolled the window down. I stood and watched.
She kissed me. The passion, the wanting, those big eyes.
“When can I see you again?”
If I had asked her to come over, she would have. I felt guilt. I knew that I didn’t feel it as much as she did. I knew her, but it wasn’t there.
I saw her one more time after that.
She’d later message me. She’d tell me how I was no good, and how I used her.