There’s something in the way he stares,
A silence caught in the air.
Not words, not touch, yet still it speaks,
A glance that lingers, soft and deep.
His eyes, those pools of quiet brown,
Hold stories neither voice has found.
I search their depths, they pull me in,
A truth unformed beneath his skin.
We hover close, yet worlds apart,
Each shielding scars, each guarding heart.
But in his gaze, I see it clear,
The things he wants, the things he fears.
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