I'm trying to tell you something

 I'm trying to tell you something

You used to hold my hands and tell me they were the softest you’ve ever held. You used to gaze into my eyes and tell me you could see the world through them. And you would kiss my eyes as if you were trying to envision everything they had seen before we met. You never failed to tell how beautiful I looked, no matter what I was wearing, no matter how I really looked. You were so romantic. Romance was alive in our hearts. In our touch.

What a sense of humor you had. You were my daily dose of comedy. 

Whenever we were in a crowd your eyes always found me, and you would caress me alluringly with your eyes. I remember you getting a big kick out of watching me melt under your flirtatious gaze. You always told me: “Look for love in the eyes.”

I don’t have to tell you that I looked forward everyday to hearing you tell me how much you loved me. You never said, “I think you know I care about you.” You always said, “I love you” in a voice so tender I wanted to weep like a baby. Occasionally I did. Occasionally I did.

Now I weep because I’m sad. I weep because I miss that sensuous gaze, the flirting eyes, the laughter, the romance, the hand holding, the compliments and confessions of love. I now weep because I miss the caring person I once knew. 

Where did he go? I’m trying to tell you something. Are you listening?

copyrighted by dorothy charles banks