I am not sure how to say it out loud and embrace it. Anything celebrated in my life usually dissolves and becomes weak. So weak it crumbles and leaves me.
I am appreciative, I am in an infatuation of love. I have created an outlook which to hold my life too, why.
I am intrested, I want to know more.
I gaze into his eyes, knowing something's different. But what can it be?
Is it he who is strange, or I. Will I find something so disturbing that I cannot look past?
From his silhouette next to the silhouettes of men past, this cannot be as bad. this can not be horrible, and I am not shallow. My love for others stretch far and wide, I do not see the mistakes or troubles of some, but the great that is waiting to come out. The new I never get to see, the love they have to show, and the unique life they will spare me.
From what I am witness too, to what I am guilty of, a tamper dove of ignorance seems to fly through.
I am disturbed, I am insane, but I am also obsessive.
Obsessed not with those I am with, nor those I meet, but with the lives they live and the eyes I gain.
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