He looks at me in no special way with his eyes showing disgust. They roll like bowling balls when I talk now. He used to look at me in a special way with his eyes showing love, like an old married couple going for a sunday drive. They would sparkle and smile like angels looking over loved ones. His eyes are now mondays. Dull brown like dirty snow banks in the winter months of Wisconsin. They used to be Friday nights. Soft and caring like the chocolate chips in fresh cookies.. Is what they were, what they should be again. His sweet, sweet eyes that used to look at me in a special way, no longer do. They play tricks on his brain, telling him I am invisible. His skin always hot to the touch, now isn’t mine to touch. And his smile, his smile made the world stop spinning. But these shades of his eyes are no longer mine to savor, he is not mine.