Your clear eyes,
a sea of accumulated raindrops,
started to ripple
as I touched the surface.
In your depths I dived;
neither sinking nor losing air—
never drowning despite the rough waves
of unchartered waters.
With no fear of trenches
as deep as the Mariana's,
or fear of undercurrents
as mysterious as the Bermuda's,
I sought further to know
why I felt more familiar
in the water than on land.
Floating, swimming,
breathing underwater;
I stayed warm in your gaze,
in the calm of you.
I found myself at home
when I looked into your eyes.
For Joel/LJY, being 22 isn't so bad after all. And it only gets better from there. You once said the eyes are your favorite part of a person. I hope you know your eyes are my favorite, just like how I love the sea.
(j.m.)