What Shall Never Be

Tip toe down the marble staircase, my feet silent as they tread so lightly across each step. As I gaze down towards your study seeing the doorway open, light flooding out from doorway illuminating the otherwise dark hall of your elegant home.

For I'm nothing more than an object of your desire, your latest attraction which is to be seen and never heard, but still I shall tip toe down just a little further if only to sneak a peak upon you, the elegant man who I so desire.

There you sit comfortably upon your plush couch of velour, the new script resting across your knee open with your eyes dart across the page, as your right hand reaches out effortlessly over to the crystal glass you carried from the dinner table the contents of which are the remains of the finest Italian red wine that we shared while dinning together.

But yet you remain so ignorant to my presences as I stand within the darkness of the hallway and oh how I yearn for you to come to bed, but I know it is of no use, for your career is everything to you and you must focus on that which you are most passionate about, for I'm just a small distraction for when you need to relax, I know my place and station.

But even I can no longer help but wonder, that if I left now, would you even notice at all? Perhaps in time, but maybe not straight from my departure, it most likely would take you a good few days, possibly even weeks, to notice I'm no longer there within your home.

It is then from my thoughts I notice the thud of paper, I notice you have placed the script down on the couch beside you, rubbing at your tired eyes before standing up and stretching out your aching back. You elegant form comfortable, still unaware of my presence, as you strolling over to your desk while my eyes can not help but to watch you every move, like a cat watching its prey within the long grass of the garden.

You slump down in to your chair behind your desk, pulling the draw open that usually remains locked, as I watch you placing what seems like a small ring box before you on the desk. This is not the first time I have observed you look at this haunting ring box, it must still cut you deeply how she rejected you, but how I wish you would notice me, your pain shields you from any real joy now and I'd gladly wear that ring, but it is of course no use for me to mutter such words to you, you will never ask me to be your wife, that mere thought to ask such a thing now terrifies you.

So once again I tip toe back up to bed, knowing all to well I will be asleep long before you come to bed, most likely you will sleep in your study, even coming to this haunting room is a bitter reminder of that which was never real to you, she hurt you so deeply and how I wish things were different, but that shall never be.