THE MESS

"Behind the walls of alcoholism and cynicism, I discern a troubled soul. The raging fire in your eyes appears to hold a faint whiff of melancholy. There is something so deep hidden in these deep pools." I sputter, my eyes glued to his by a powerful spark which I am trying so hard to break from.

A minute passes, his eyes threatening to burn me, and mine pleading otherwise, and it's now that I know I have to act before I find myself dancing in this fire. I want to say a lot about the expression in his icy eyes, they are hiding quite a lot, but the fire in them simply won't let me. Him becoming so lost in mine is not helping at all. He undoubtedly is feeling my twitching hands in his, or the wetness because I am sweating due to this heat.

I release his grip while breaking our eye contact. I'm proud of myself for keeping my gaze on him for so long though. It's quite difficult. I mentally tap myself on the shoulder for that.

"Am I right or wrong?" To break the tedium, I speak once more aft