The Observer
I didn't mean to notice her.
But now that I have, I can't look away.
I'm drawn to her strength, her sorrow, the way she hopes.
The way she looks at him, sleeping, unaware...
My cravings aren’t for flesh alone.
It’s her essence I hunger for, her spirit.
I don’t wish to hurt her—only to taste what makes her whole.
I'll keep watching, sharing her silence, feeling her pain.
Until I can make her see me.
And once she does, I'll help her heal.
Not even when she tells me to go.
The Observed
I can feel his gaze, even from a distance.
I should be uncomfortable, but I'm not.
There's a comfort in his presence, a solace in his silent support.
He doesn't judge my tears, my fears, my desperate pleas.
He just watches, understands, and somehow, shares my burden.
I can't look away, not when I need him to stay.
Not when I want him to come closer.
Even as I sit here, holding onto a love that's slipping away, I find myself drawn to the observer.
