It’s not weird if I walk with him everyday, wherever he goes—right?

It’s not like I’m doing any harm—I’m just there before he knows it.

I follow him to work.

I follow him to the grocery store.

I follow him to the local cafe.

I follow him to his home.

I follow him to the bathroom.

It’s not weird if I love him. Right?

But it’s not my fault. It’s his.

The way his deep voice cracks a bit when talking.

The way a wrinkle appears by his brow when he smiles.

It’s his fault for being who he is.

I look at his beautifuly gorgeous eyes.

I look at his perfectly sculpted body.

I look at him eating

breakfast,

Lunch,

Dinner.

I watch him sleeping like an angel.

I watch him take steamy long showers.

I watch him stare at the flat-screen television, entertained with the characters from movies he adores.

Just like I adore him.

Love him.

He might not know it yet though—but it’s ok. He will soon.

I watch his fiancee every morning prepare toasts and eggs for him.

I watch his fiancee pick an outfit for work.

I watch her grab her pink bottle and sandwich wrapped with foil.

I watch her leave the house.

I watch her start the car.

I watch her get to work and talk with her co-workers.

I watch her have a half hour lunch-break.

I watch her take a sip from her pink metal bottle.

I watch her choke.

I watch her fall to the ground.

Hit her head on the concrete.

I watch her pass away.

What a shame.

Didn’t check twice what she put in her bottle.

Poor girl didn’t know she wasn’t meant to be with him.

Only I was the destined one.

And soon,

I shall be.

With.

Him.