the lion king (or these eyes)
I packed my bags today.
All I left him was a tear-stained pillow, soaked in the painful confusion released from the eyes whose glow once belonged to him.
These eyes used to be my glory: a huntress's greatest weapon when hunting for the most prime and challenging game. When they caught his they trapped him like a netted lion tricked into bondage while searching for water in the south Saharan desert he calls home.
Bright whites barely seen beneath wide irises enticed and flagged him down. Irises so deep and tempting he nearly drowned in the brown. Pupils so sharp they cut him loose from his natural trappings while originating one anew. And lids whose closings were the scariest thing he knew because he quickly became accustomed to these eyes.
Look again.
I had done my research: lions have such sharp claws, thick fangs and hungry will-power that taming them is a fantasy and simply holding them is a temporary illusion in itself. And he was the most typical of lions: confidently regal and not easily maintained. Yet somehow the way he slyly sauntered into what I thought was my possession persuaded me that I had done the impossible. The way he knowingly partook of the nutrients I provided him, daily mouthing them from the palms of my hands, convinced me that he would never seek to feed himself again. And his purr. Alone it comforted my belief that I had finally found my final prize. I could now retire; my days as a huntress were over. But when paired with the ferocity of his roaring aggression it confused me into thinking there was even more to him than meets
These eyes.
I now see these eyes were in fact my curse: what I thought was a secret weapon for containing wild royalty was in fact a signal that tagged me as an easy target. He grasped my glance in his and like opposing magnet ends we mended by no force of our own. But we were so alike: both fearless, both hungry, both unashamedly vicious in our rectifications of disorder in our kingdoms. We were too alike. In fact, we were nearly identical. No wonder we ended up repulsing in the end.
Unlikely companions turned into the best of friends. And then remiss. Eyes once glossy with glow too quickly turned arid with emptiness.
I found him in the desert. Thirsty. Searching for water. I suppose he found what he was looking for; these eyes held more water than I could ever have imagined possible. But now I give him his last and dearest desire, pouring out my waters upon his bedsheets until I have nothing left. But what I came with:
These eyes.
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