The Boys with Doe Eyes

Mama never said to watch out for the boys with liquid, doe eyes.
The ones with the slow, easy smiles.
Completely comfortable in their own skin, standing without a care in the world.

She never told me they'll steal your heart just to see what will happen. 
That those soft looks don't necessarily mean they care.
That those smiles often go out to everyone, when you want them only for yourself.

She never told me that behind those eyes often lives the soul of a poet.
Boys as soft and sensitive as you'll ever see.
That behind that facade they're easy to love, but not easy to be with.

She never told me that the quiet voice inside of them is confident.
That stillness is often synonymous with strength.
That autonomy may lead them to never need you.

She never warned me about what happens when those boys leave.
How nothing you can do will make them stay.
That desperation to find someone else who will look at you the same way.

Daddy had hard eyes, angry and wild.
Flickering and flitting here and there.
Even when he wasn't throwing cruel comments or hands carelessly, his eyes told his story.

That's why Mama never warned me about those wistful eyed boys. 
No one ever looked at her that way.
So why would she caution about such people when that was all she wished for.


~Becky~