Eyelids

Justin thinks Chris's eyelids look like paper machet. Not really that, even, because paper machet isn't fragile enough for that simile to work. Justin imagines that in a bad science fiction movie, Chris's eyelids would be his Achilles heel. The one part of him that can be damaged. Justin knows that isn't true to real life. But he stares for what seems like hours some nights at his eyelids. They look like the skin is tissue paper thin, weakened by the natural moistures of Chris's face; oil, sweat, and tears. Tiny wrinkles mark the surface of his eyelids, the same way tissue paper looks after the Elmer's Glue dries and you've used too much.

When they're together, Justin wants to kiss those eyes, but he's afraid that even the slightest touch will tear the tissue paper. So he doesn't. A few times, he came close, but each time just as he was a breath away, so close, his mind conjured up visions of Chris's eyelids closed at night as Justin watches his lover sleep. It became so much that he was afraid to even breathe on them. He imagined they were so fragile that even the slightest puff from Justin's lips would tear Chris's eyelids apart like a gale force wind.

Thanks to Silvia for the inspiration