Big Eyes

I wonder about him.  About those big eyes -- how they drink in the world. When will they recognize the things not innocent?  The humanity of this place and how decisions create a certain way to the space that is different from the original.  Not bad.  Just imperfect.

 Still beautiful.  Still worth drinking in.

And I want to be wanted.  To be understood.  To have a heart known and chased after.  Yet fleeting infatuations and momentary obsessions seem like a high price to pay when looking at a long term self that's being made. Looking north but feeling tugs east and west.  Knowing deep down that the fleeting things will hurt and that pain and rejection can't be avoided, but that the lasting things will still call out to me even when crossing into detours.   And that faith in the calling out, that the voice will always find its way to remind me,  is what puts courage into the step.  It leaves the second guessing and the escape routes and the obsessing over Plan B and closed doors in the trash.  They don't matter when love is the motivation.  Because you can't get so far that you can't come back.  You can't go so deep that you can't come up for air.  Even when it feels that way.  Even when feelings of rejection try to steal your sense of dignity.  Your courage.  Your belief that you matter.  Even then the strength somehow finds you.  Urges you to believe again.  To keep going.  To not surrender forever to the weakness and doubt.

I want eyes like his.  Drinking it all in.  Fear gone.  Reservations gone.  Obsessions with being liked and understood gone.  Rejection's heaviness in the way it makes you feel like you are a small person who doesn't matter-- gone.