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I see her in my downtime, in the moments when I seem at my worst. She is always there, and I know her. I recognize her, even though I have not met her yet. I cannot see all of her face, but I can see her eyes. And I can look into her eyes and see not only myself, but I see her as well. She has a passion that is being held back for the one that she loves, the one in which her eyes are penetrating deep.
She looks deep into my eyes and my soul is naked. I have no secrets when she looks into my soul, and she knows everything about me. She peers into my soul and sees the anguish and the pain that is present, and with a touch of her hand on the bridge of my nose, all of it is gone.
I look into her eyes and I see her as being slightly mischievious, but she is pure and whole. She has passion inside, just waiting to be let loose. I can feel it, because she sees it in me as well. When we look into each other’s eyes, there is nothing between us. Just my soul and her soul, one on one, together.
She looks deep into my eyes and my soul is naked. I have no secrets when she looks into my soul, and she knows everything about me. She peers into my soul and sees the anguish and the pain that is present, and with a touch of her hand on the bridge of my nose, all of it is gone.
I look into her eyes and I see her as being slightly mischievious, but she is pure and whole. She has passion inside, just waiting to be let loose. I can feel it, because she sees it in me as well. When we look into each other’s eyes, there is nothing between us. Just my soul and her soul, one on one, together.