Eyes of Ice
By Silver Sailor Ganymede
Ice. His eyes reminded her of ice. Nothing more, nothing less: just the ice. So pale, so cold, so distant, just like the ice. He had had such beautiful eyes… now, however, she could not stand to look at them.
They were now like ice not in their beauty but in their coldness. Coldness, the only thing she saw from him now, coldness, aloofness, nothing. The worst part was that it was her fault. Had she never loved him then he would still have his beautiful, wise gaze. But now staring at his eyes was like looking into a broken mirror; everything had changed.
She still loved him, yes, and perhaps that was why she was so hurt by all of this. It was not what anyone else had done to her, but what she had done to him. So cold he was now. For her spring had always followed the coldness of winter. Not now though, never again. The cold winter in his gaze would never go away; always now his eyes would be nothing more than shattered ice.