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The deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.

Lucy Christopher

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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Eyes
Secret
Eye
Wanted
Secrets
Blue
Deep

More quotes by Lucy Christopher

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I love you, you said, simple as anything.
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I mean, that star over there is blinking at me madly now, but for how long? An hour or two, or for the next million years? And how long will we sit here like this? Just another moment, or the rest of our lives? You know which one I'd prefer.
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You smiled then, and your whole face changed with it. It kind of lit up, like there were sunbeams coming from inside you.
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I remember that feeling of skin. It's strange to remember touch more than thought. But my fingers still tingle with it.
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I didn’t look back, but I knew you were still watching. It probably sounds weird, but I could just feel it. The hairs on my neck bristled when you blinked.
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You looked at me, your eyes huge. You we're like a dog then, waiting for me to throw you a bone . . . waiting for something I could never give you.
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It was so big, that view. I’ll never remember it properly. How can anyone remember something that big? I don’t think people’s brains are designed for memories like that. They’re designed for things like phone numbers, or the color of someone’s hair. Not hugeness.
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Where are you going? I asked. The middle of nowhere. I thought this was it. Nah. You shook your head. This is just the edge.
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Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch it.
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When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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I thought you wanted to catch a camel, you tried again. No. I want to. Well, you go then. You laughed. I want your beautiful face where I can see it
Lucy Christopher
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There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
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I could hear you, talking to the daffodils and tulips, whispering to the fairies that lived inside their petals. Each separate flower had a different family inside it.
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I remember the lights turning into blurs of blazing fire. I remember the air-conditioning chilling my arms. The smell of coffee smudging into the smell of eucalyptus.
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I chased money, pretended to be someone else to get it. It got easier the longer I did it... but that's the trap, see? When the deadness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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I want you to see that the person I glimpsed running beside the camel, running to save my life, is the person you can choose to be.
Lucy Christopher
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This be OK?' I asked, innocently. 'You want me to have no skin left?' You rolled your eyes. Actually, don't answer that one.
Lucy Christopher
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Doesn't that hurt? I said. Yep. How do you keep them in there? I'm stubborn. You grinned. Stubborn as a waddywood. And anyway, pain means it's healing. Not always.
Lucy Christopher
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You won't be able to hurt me, or touch me.
Lucy Christopher
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The sand stretched out gray and ghostlike and illuminated, a column of light leading forward. It was like something a dead person would see, a tunnel leading toward heaven.
Lucy Christopher