I’ve always thought my eyes are pretty nice.
They seem to change colour too which is kinda cool, sometimes they are a pale blue almost grey, sometimes they are definitely blue. Occasionally they look blue/green.
But I have always looked at my eyes and thought “yeah they’re pretty.”
If I were to ask MrH he’d probably say the same.
Now, MrH has brown eyes. Deep and warm. They sparkle when he’s feeling mischievous. They are thoughtful and they manage to convey so much feeling when he looks at me that sometimes it’s quite overwhelming. I love his eyes. I watch his eyes when he’s not looking. And, they see right into me.
I try to hide my eyes from his. Frequently. He sees too much.
I shy away from looking directly into his eyes, terrified I may see something other than love. Petrified.
When I am talking to him about things I want to try, things I would like him to do to me, I hide from his gaze. Literally. I will hide my face in his chest, or under his arm.
During sex I close my eyes, for a few reasons, but mostly because I don’t want to see him looking at me. Or perhaps see him look with disgust or dislike. And then the worse one, that maybe he isn’t looking at me at all, that he’s looking through me, or picturing someone else.
So better not to look at all. Then I can try to convince myself that he’s looking at me with delight.
It must be difficult being with someone like me, who can see beauty in everyone else but not herself. I get the hypocrisy. I can talk the talk but I don’t believe it myself.
So I hide my eyes. And try to hide my doubt.
And at the same time I want to him to grab me and make me look at him. I want him to make me believe I am what he sees. Stop me from doubting. Look at me until I tremble and show me that I’m wrong. To have him look deep into my bright eyes until I believe.