Her Little Eyes

She sits, and spies out her window, into the lives of strangers,

Absorbing their day, their routine, becomes her obsession,

Enhaling all that she sees, and files it away, deep, in her mind,

She rummages through, picking apart all the lives

That are absorbed by her little eyes,

Their dark intimacy, hers to rewind and play

To her desires, outlining all these private events

As they unfold before her, never blinking, or flinching away,

Fully vested, as her neighbors proceed, with their reserves,

Unsuspecting of her eyes, as she blends, into the shadow,

Her only ally, the only thing, aware of her isolated existence,

Cloaking her, in it’s safe embrace, as she pushes

Further into it’s depths, losing herself to the shadow,

Nothing is left behind the curtain, as her eyes pierce through,

Studying, a couple separated by a wall, but in the same domain,

No longer their moments, as her eyes invaded

The space between them, which feels so cold, held

In her vision, surveying their constricted movements,

A man and a woman, sharing a story with her little eyes

Without even realizing, how their secrets, are displayed,

The man, sunken into the couch, while the woman slaves,

Leering at the man, her shrill voice piercing his serenity,

Minute after minute, she breaks the silence, and his fist gets tighter,

Gripping onto his anger as best he can, following the drips

Of sanity, that echo out, while those little eyes sparkle,

Gleefully watching the cracks spine up the narrow alley

Of their reality, they rushed into their unstable fusion,

Those eyes watching the man struggle, his temper climbing,

His own eyes begin to stammer, not realizing the knife,

His rage blinded him, he ignored her to the point her own rage

Took control, showed her where her serenity lives,

Took the blade she used for all those frustrated meals,

Ended them, by ending him,

Never have those little eyes, stared so immensely,

Haunted, by her own spying, she’s kept frozen,

Unsure if she should act, afraid for her hobby,

To the world, this all would be an aberration,

Not in her eyes, she never hurt anyone living in others,

But how much, can she trust the shadow, keeping her hidden,

Stuck in the moment, that shattered the harmless,

She draws the shades, pulls the shadow closer,

And finds herself empty, next to the woman still holding the knife,

Her little eyes grows weak, taking with her, all the stories

She’s stolen, while losing her own shadow to her own greed.