"A Silent Invitation"
The Teacher:
She thinks I don't notice.
That I don't feel
the flutter of her breath
each time I pass too close
the way her eyes hesitate,
then drop,
as if respect could smother want.
But I do.
I always do.
She hides behind books
and studies words
like she thinks they're safer than me.
But I see her hands
how they tremble
when I speak softer,
lower,
as if knowledge were a sin
she's begging to taste.
She's beautiful.
Innocent, yes.
But that's just the surface.
There's curiosity in her
so ripe it aches.
I could smell it
if I believed in such things.
She follows rules
because she doesn't yet know
how lovely she'd look breaking them.
For me.
Today,
her shadow lingered too long in the shelves.
I paused,
let my voice slip through the quiet
dragged my fingers along the spines
like I was teasing fate.
And I felt her.
Not saw
felt.
Still.
Silent.
Waiting for the moment
I turned.
But I didn't.
Not yet.
She's not ready to know
I've been watching her longer.
That her blush,
her gaze,
her hunger
is mine already
and I'll take her
when she realizes
she wants to be taken.
Not before.
But soon.
Very soon.