His eyes. Startlingly blue, a stunning cerulean. Beautiful. Piercing through me with every glance, like slivers of ice. Icicles. The color of the sky in the countryside. The color of the water in the Caribbean. Perfection. Soft, warm, and unforgiving all at once. Nonsensical. A waterfall of grays and blues and greens and golds. Stunning. Eyes that put sapphires to shame, eyes that make ultramarine appear dull. Impossible. How can these eyes exist? How can someone be so perfect? How can he distract me from my school work every single day, even when he’s absent? He consumes my thoughts. His voice reverberates deep within me. He’s different. His eyes, a shining, glimmering blue, are otherworldly. I would say I’m in love, if I believed love exists. It doesn’t, though. Neither does he. Not really, anyways. It’s impossible for someone to be so perfect. He’s impossible. He’s an illusion, a mirage in the desert that is my life. His eyes are an oasis, and baby, I want to drown in them.