The Watcher

The Watcher

You can't see me hiding, watching in the gloom
as you flit and flirt your way around the room
in a crimson sheath, a silken, shiny tomb.
Luring all who dare survey you to their doom

Does it please you when all eyes are turned on you?
Do you accept the praise as though it were your due?
Do you keep admirers waiting in a queue?
Does the power to attract let self renew?

When the things you lusted for have left you dry
and a shell is all that's left to question why,
will you accept my sweet embraces with a sigh?
Or will you walk away and leave me here to die?

When your fascination works for you no more
and all you are, again is shrunken to the core.
Will you lie like withered leaves upon the floor?
Or will you come to me and let our spirits soar.