In Medio

boy from the past

i opened my door and there you stood. a handsome prince, sharp bones and fine lashes, silky raven hair parted in the middle where two curtains fell, flanking your face. it was like some sheer valance had been ripped off its rod: you were there, and my eyes would not deceive me any further for they had been all these years.
yet it was your eyes.
the same. a simple brown. (but of course, to those receiving them knowingly, they were anything but.) 
i should have shut that door.
you should have never come.
i was shaken.
after all these years?
.
.
.
why did you not kiss me goodbye?