She knows he watches,
The way the air tinges with the salt of tears,
It's friction in the calm of rose wood polish.

He's waiting for her to fail,
To fall,
To show what he left inside her...

To show him his crime,
His pain,
His love resting in her eyes.

Death came too soon,
Blew in on white wings made of light,
But he got in the way of the blade

And so...

She suffers nightly,
He sits outside listening to her cries...
Punishing himself as he listens.

He doesn't want her to see him,
doesn't want her to know about what he hides,
What he really *is*.

She caught him today,
Her gaze locked onto his own red rimmed blue,
The stare his own reflected in her deep brown.

She's not Marie anymore,
Not since Liberty
What came back was just another of him

And for that
he knows he deserves nothing,
Nothing but the look in her eyes.