a pair of eyes from across the room. i can feel it. feel him. watching. as i turn, as i dance, as a slide my hand up and down my touching my hair and feeling my own face, lost in the music head throbbing from the music, watching her on stage watching her eyes watching us watching him watching me.
as i glance across the room and i see him jerk his head back, shy, hiding behind the indie rock boy with the chain in his pocket and the rolled up pants. i move to the side, and see him, watching out of the corner of his eye. cock my head to the side and a smirk, seeing him seeing me seeing him. raised eyebrows and he looks away again. i never saw you he says to me. oh yes you did. yes you do.
"you are being a voyeur," she said to me once.
it's true. i just sit and watch. watching him now as he watches me. a created reality, one just for us. is he the audience, watching me? watching as a move my body, pass hands over lips directing secrets just for him. or am i the audience, watching him watching me passing hands over lips, watching his reaction, his eyes, blinking, reflecting my actions back at me.
i step down and walk across the floor, eyes on him, he turns, he looks, a hand brushes against hair dropped over a pale blue eye and i walk away.