Someone to watch over me...
I step up into the closet I had builtthe place where I keep the faces.
I look at the people I have placed there.
My eyes scan the others
on the shelves and on wire hangers for display.
I remember you, I say, as I look at a sleeping set of eyes. You
were a lot of fun. Everyone liked you.
When you joked, they laughed,
when you smiled, they smiled.
They didn't notice me
behind you.
You are perfect for tonight.
I wake her, and look at the playful green eyes,
their dark irises flashing with a joyous fire.
She flips her hair, brushes it out one hundred times
and places the clips on the side. I observe everything over her shoulder
appreciating her beauty almost as much as she does, but only
for a moment.
He appraises her as he enters my home,
not noticing as I watch from the corner.
He takes her arm, smiles, and leads her away;
and I follow.
I watch, enthralled by how he holds her hand,
and gazes in her vibrant and loving eyes, and think
of my own sad and empty pupils.
He loves her, I can tell. He tells her she is
beautiful, unique, and perfect.
She knows just what to say,
She loves him, while I can't.
She can care for him, I can't.
She deserves him and I don't.
As he walks her to my home he leans in
low, and ever so softly, shares his love with her
in the most basic human expression.
That moment, I am finally her, finally myself
in my own body. Not looking from behind
the mask I had worn, but from my own eyes--
full of the love that I finally felt.
And he was kissing me.
But when he slowly pulled away, I saw
his eyes were closed. I realized
he wasn't looking while I was me.
His loving eyes opened to her once more.
Mine went lifeless.
I am torn from myself again, and forced
to watch, as she lives my life for me. It hurts, but it's easier that way.
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