Debris.

I study from afar,
Safe, protected
Behind the mask,
That shields my eyes.
As I covet
The tiniest movement,
Slightest twitch,
That he makes.
I focus,
Determined, not
To miss a thing
Or let him know
I'm there.
As avidly I devour his words,
His frown, his smoke deepened laugh.
Yearning
For them to be mine.

A smile lifts my lips, as
I mentally note
To harvest his glass
Before it is washed,
Rest my mouth upon his print,
Own him.
I resolutely contain,
The need to gather
His precious debris,
The twisted Wests,
Stubbed carelessly,
Filling the ashtray, or
Blackened matches
Once cradled, tenderly
Cupped in his hands and
Dropped with disdain
To litter the floor.

When he speaks my name
I pretend not to hear,
Loath to allow
The smallest of clues,
To seep from my disloyal mouth.
He laughs,
Supposes I'm shy,
Little does he know
What goes through my mind
every time he is so near
That I could touch him,
Capture and caress him, and
Make him mine,
Until
I am done with him,
And he becomes
Mere debris of my life.