The Wall

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Last week I saw you. I saw you smile, a smile I hadn't seen in such a long time. It made me happy to see your face light up the way I was so familiar with, but it also stung, knowing it wasn't for me. So, I kept watching. I watched your hands dance on her legs, feel the bumps of her spine as your fingers whispered secrets into her back. I watched as she fell deeper into you. I watched as her eyes burned into yours like fire. Her hands moved to your face, telling secrets that no one knew, but you.

I remember that smirk. I see your hands moving closer to her waist. I don't see her resisting. I see that you're happy. I see that she's happy. You look at her the way you used to look at me: hopeful. I can see you haven't felt this way in a long time, possibly since me.

There I stood, unable to move. How could I move? For I am the wall that looks upon you both. Sometimes I feel you lean against me, the cool touch of your hand gently resting. How could I move? For I am the wall you put up for others to break down.

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