It's Been A While, Hasn't It?

I always thought that I could spend my days staring into your chocolate brown eyes for hours on end without blinking. Yet something always made my pupils wonder down to your soft red lips. Even farther, to your day-and-a-half old stubble that accumulated "far too quickly," as you would always say. I remember one day we shuffled our feet around the park, my hand in yours. After finding a bench, I recall resting my head on your chest, and having your arm lay around my waist. It was eight o'clock, Saturday evening. We sat in silence, not saying a word, but understanding the vibes we each gave off. Physically, we were close; mentally, we were close. In that moment, I knew just what I wanted to say. Just to mutter the words and the power behind them. But I was at a loss. A battle between head and heart at its finest. I could not muster the courage. In fact, I remember sitting there thinking of the first time someone other than my mother said I love you to me. He said it quickly, making eye contact and smiling. In fact, he said it so fast, my mind couldn't process what I'd heard. He repeated himself, slightly slower this time. With the message coming across, so did a smile. "I love you, too," I replied. I digress. Seven minutes of silence. Eight minutes of silence. I couldn't do it and I didn't. Instead, I went along for four more months not saying a word about it, not even dropping a hint as to say I loved him. I should have, but I guess it's too late. Months later, I still occasionally stare into those chocolate brown eyes that lead down to those soft red lips and day-and-a-half old stubble. It isn't the same as it had once been; a picture frame does you no justice.