Our curse

I muse upon your eyes and lose myself in the swirling blend of green and gold. The way they shift with your whims captivates me, making me follow their every motion, ever longing to be the object of your admiration. Those grand, verdant eyes both drench me and deny me the quenching of my thirst. Engaging in minor skirmishes was always a guilty pleasure, one I pretended not to pride myself on when victory was mine. Is it not ironic, then, how now you hold victory in your hands after a battle against time, and all I hope for is that you take pride in the outcome? I dream of your eyes and your hands, yearning for them to reach out to me, driven by the fervor of my desire. I pray to saints and unseen gods, beseeching them to grant you the vision to see me, so that I might finally come into existence.
I yearn to plunge into the depths of your eyes, to pierce the material barrier that keeps you from seeing me standing beside you. I crave to drown and beg for you to rescue me from the abyss you’ve cast me into, for only you know, as I do, the body’s inability to break free from the trance of such perilous beauty. I might be safe if you were merely a pair of eyes that rob me of reason with their allure.
I would not be so utterly condemned if you were only beautiful, but you are devastatingly captivating in every conceivable way.
I am reduced to a mere creature consumed by your gaze, and I cannot resist to look at what I crave - You are my Medusa; I exist only in the fleeting moments before you turn me to stone.