P7

Open the blinds.
Turn the lock.
Open up.

The eyes are the windows to the soul, and having caught a glimpse of you walking around naked inside your anatomical apartment, I plan to stake out with binoculars, Rear Window style, because I need a better look.

One look from you, and you're a 1950s housewife in an apron opening the window on a sweet Spring day to place a hot pie on the window sill to cool... which is strange imagery considering your beard.
It's a trap, I know, but I have to have a taste of the sweetness you've placed in front of me.

Ever notice how a superhero is utterly unrecognizable with only a thin mask around the eyes? I always thought "wth? It SOUNDS like Bruce Wayne, and LOOKS like Bruce Wayne. HOW can people not know?!"
It wasn't until you uncovered your eyes that I knew... no longer disguised, no longer superhuman in a costume and cape;
Just a man I could love.

Holding a gaze with you is like a warm breeze blowing through an open window.
No screens or filters, just open air. I breathe you in deeply and exhale a smile, and by smile, I mean that teeth-too-big-cheeks-so-sore smile that brings up definite questions about my sanity.

Souls exposed and hearts aligned, I can see clearly. And as I gaze into your open apartment windows, I see you there... holding hands with the woman who moved in before I had even dreamt of opening your windows. That would explain why you keep the blinds closed.