他黑色的皮肤下是那片炽热的太阳，永远带着热烈的爱意，浓烈滚烫。许多人说他太过不近人情，那双棕色的眼眸下藏着太多诡计。
我遇见他时他还穿着军绿色的衣装，站在街边看着人来人往。我在旁边支着摊子卖炸鸡，但因为他的缘故，许多人都绕道而行。我不满地瞪了他几眼，他扭头看过来给了我一个微笑，对暴行的怨念在此刻化为实质，我扭过头不再理他。但我对他的认知太过浅薄片面，我没有意识到他是被我吸引而来。也没有料到这个经常来买炸鸡的军官其实偏爱素食。
爱藏在他的眼眸下，像春水一样细软绵长，我喜欢看着他的眼睛，看他的愤怒，看他从不遮掩的爱意。看他因为我而牵动的任何情绪。我爱轻吻着他的手掌，延绵着缱绻向上，感受他皮肤的每一寸纹路，轻微起伏的胸膛还有微开的嘴唇。
My lover comes from Chile.
Beneath his dark skin burns the fierce sun of his homeland—radiant, relentless, overflowing with a love that is hot and consuming. Many say he is distant, unreadable. That beneath those brown eyes lie too many schemes, too many calculations.
When I first met him, he was dressed in military green, standing by the roadside watching the crowds pass. I had a fried chicken stand set up nearby, but because of him, people would often cross the street to avoid us. I shot him a few annoyed looks. He turned, met my gaze, and gave me a smile. In that moment, my resentment toward violence felt almost tangible. I turned away, unwilling to acknowledge him.
What I didn’t realize was how shallow my understanding of him truly was. I never imagined he had been drawn there because of me. Nor did I expect that the officer who came by so often to buy fried chicken actually preferred vegetables.
Love rests beneath his eyes like spring water—soft, lingering, endless. I love watching him. Watching his anger. Watching the love he never bothers to conceal. Watching every emotion that stirs in him because of me.
I love pressing gentle kisses to his palm, letting them wander upward in quiet devotion—feeling every line of his skin, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the slight parting of his lips.
Perhaps only God knows how deeply I love him in this lifetime.
