Waiting

His eyes are like an ocean. Big, blue, and deep. Filled with the unknown just waiting to be discovered. Those beautiful eyes shine and sparkle like a freshly cut diamond. A hidden secret lies within, a secret that may never brush his precious lips. Oh those lips, two bridges of sweetness meeting in harmony when he speaks. And his voice, melodic and angelic. He is an angel, my angel. If only I could read his thoughts. Understand his emotions, know what they are. If only I knew what he was feeling. Does he ever think of me?
I think of him often. More than often; all the time. Days without him are agonizingly painful and tormentingly long. I wish he was with me now, I wish he was holding me. I would give anything to feel his fingers brush against my skin. To hold his hands in mine. To look into those mesmerizing eyes, if only he was mine.
Today we were sitting together working on a paper. Our faces leaned in closely as he pointed something out. I felt a longing to lean in and press my lips against his. I wouldn't give a care in the world as to who was there, watching. I wanted to touch him. To lift off his shirt and feel my way down his chest. I wanted to, but I didn't.
Self control, I told myself, have patience.
But waiting for him is like sitting midsummer on a beach in Hawaii, waiting for snow to fall. As beautiful as the beach may be, the snow will never fall. He is my beach, his love is the snow. Though he is there, his love is hiding. Hiding inside his soul as the snow hides in the clouds. Nothing is impossible, just unlikely. But I will wait. And I will continue to tell myself to sit back, relax, and enjoy the view.