In A Crowded Room

In a crowded room, my eyes will always find You. It’s unnatural. You aren’t magnetized.

They will scour the room, looking for a hint. Tall— there are lots of tall people. Brown hair— there are many brunettes. Find the man surrounded by beautiful people with lustful eyes, and there He is. His gaze won’t meet mine. He’s busy entertaining the masses.

I will walk to him, not drawn; it’s a conscious decision. I will hold out for the recognition that I have joined His crowd of admirers. I live for it.

It takes awhile, but finally, His eyes flick upward. He sees me. “Hey!” And that’s all I need. Good, because that’s all He’ll offer. One little word. I clutch it to my chest. I’d die for it.

And that’s the way it’s always been. Desiring without being desired. Chased, sure— but I don’t want to be pursued. Put me on a pedestal. Worship me. But if you chase, I will run.

And I will always run toward Him. He doesn’t bat an eye in my direction; isn’t phased by my lust. I will always lay myself at His bounty, yearning for His attention, but I will not beg for it. Instead, I will search the crowd, find Him in infatuation, and dote.

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