To Be Loved is To Be Seen by Artem Zavalniuk

To my love:

I have always believed that the eyes are the most intimate part of the human body. These two miraculously created sockets sometimes speak much more and more candidly than a long tongue. Eyes never lie. Your eyes were fashioned by elegant round frames, which actually only emphasized your calm, thoughtful, and—for some reason, it seemed to me at our first meeting—tired gaze.

I stared at your features, to watch every inch of your face; there were so many details: stubble, occasional acne, red spots on your cheeks, a clearly defined cheekbone arch, and plump lips. No matter how I described you in words, would it never be enough to express my gut feelings. The way I saw you remains beyond the reach of literary words and the human eye. 

From our very first meeting, I learned to cherish your smile and the wrinkles appearing with the delicate flicker of your lips right up to your cheeks. 

I didn’t drink, and I still don’t drink heavily, but that day it felt like some kind of poison was gut-wrenching me.

Your lips were unlike any others. They’re plump. At first glance, they look like expensive fillers. I loved watching you bite your lower lip, or lick it, or apply lip balm. In those moments, I’d nervously suck on my own far-from-perfect lips and just dream about how sweet (read: honey-sweet) you must be to kiss. I’ll never know what your lips taste like, but I always imagined the taste of your lips to be sugary-cherry, probably because of the color—it was always a little darker than pink, especially when something sweet or spicy touched them. I noticed details like that. And I really wanted to touch them with my own.