From Afar I'd Watch
It was the angular position of her jawline. A right angle perfectly delineated at a gradient of 45 degrees, beneath her ear, where she wore silver-hooped earrings. The slight remnants of a scar from childhood; red beneath her left eye. Her eyes sloping downwards, shaded by long dark lashes, which together, emanated a melancholic and sleepy happiness. Such juxtapositions could somehow exist as one. With her. On her. Perhaps this was why she was so hard to read.
It was from afar that I'd always watch. Because everything I wanted was now unattainable and distant. And it only made me want it more.
So, the angle of her jawline became sharper and more intriguing. Her silver-hooped earrings somehow emphasised the beauty of her green sloped eyes, which in turn, gave light to the charm of the scar beneath her left eye.
A culmination of my emotions, expressed through the features on her face; features that I could only glimpse at every now and then during the three hours we spent together every week. But the climax of these emotions- my thoughts and desires (all preconceived)- would eventually tip, unfulfilling in their quest for a deeper understanding and analysis, beyond the features on her face. It was a want- a need- for something tangible; something I could attach myself to, and hold onto. The denouement would always follow with feelings of longing and misery; a constant emptiness surges through the mud and the weeds, and I cannot grasp a hold of the flowers above.
Such unattainable moments were the basis of my life. And still are. I'm in a loop that I can't get out of, wading through all of this.
By Eva Zvedeniuk