Ink & Shadows: The Words of Osiris j Reapor

Through Your Eyes

People have spoken about my eyes
for as long as I can remember.

They tell me it feels as though
I am looking past the surface,
past the practiced smiles,
past the careful words.

As though I can see something
they never intended to show.

Some grow quiet beneath my gaze.

Some look away.

Some laugh nervously
and change the subject.

Others stay.

Those are the ones who usually need it most.

I have spent years looking at people.

Seeing the cracks beneath confidence.
The grief hidden inside laughter.
The battles disguised as ordinary days.

I learned that most people
are desperate to be understood.

And I learned that being understood
can be frightening.

What I never learned
was what it felt like to stand on the other side of it.

Then I met you.

At first, I noticed your eyes.

Not their color.

Not their shape.

The way they stayed.

The way they lingered
without judgment,
without curiosity,
without demand.

The way mine always had.

And suddenly,
I understood why people looked away.

Because you saw me.

Not the version I offer the world.

Not the man who knows what to say.
Not the one who makes others feel safe.
Not the one who keeps everything moving
when life grows heavy.

You saw beneath all of that.

You saw the questions.
The doubts.
The old scars I carry quietly.
The weight I pretend weighs nothing at all.

And somehow,
you looked at those things
the same way I had always looked at everyone else’s.

Like they did not need fixing.

Like they were worthy of kindness.

I do not know how to explain
what that did to me.

It was not excitement.

It was not desire.

It was something steadier.

Like standing in rough water
and suddenly finding solid ground beneath my feet.

Like setting down a burden
I had forgotten I was carrying.

Like hearing my own name
spoken in a voice that finally understood it.

There are moments
when your eyes find mine across a room
and the noise around us fades.

The conversations.
The music.
The movement.

Everything drifts into the distance.

And for a few seconds,
I see myself through your eyes.

Not as I fear I am.

Not as I judge myself to be.

But as someone worth knowing.

Someone worth choosing.

Someone worth loving.

You look at me
the way I have looked at others
for so many years.

And perhaps that is why
I find it so difficult to look away.

Because when I am seen through your eyes,

I become more than I ever believed I was.