The Gaze

A summer breeze slips through an open window,

caressing curtains and ringlets of hair

in the waning daylight.

I can feel him here,

even though he is not with me.

I can feel his heat

and his watchful eyes.

Piece by piece,

I let the fabric slide from my skin,

pooling on the floor around my feet.

Satin.

Silk.

Lace.

Until I am bare.

I peer over my shoulder

through sheer drapes

and the sparseness of our divide.

A man.

A silhouette.

A secret.

His greatest lies were never words,

but the gaze that lingers on my skin

and the longing deep within his bones.