I watch you. Not in a creepy way, I'll say. It's only that when you enter my line of sight, I want to be in yours. You don't have to smile and wave when you notice I'm aware of you. No, that's not what I want right now. I want you to be aware of me.

I don't love you; I don't like you. In fact, there might be a part of me that hates you. A part that recoils harshly at seeing you stare at nothing, even when the first word I've ever heard you speak was directed at me. You didn't see me then. You still don't.

I'm interested in you, because you're me. Not in actuality, of course, but you are. That's why I've never spoken to you. That's why, even though your mouth is within range, I never hear your voice.

I see you alone and think that you've chosen to be that way. I tell myself that you wouldn't want me to speak, even though I'm thinking this now and acknowledging your mindset, parallel to my own. You see me laughing and speaking with the people I only talk to in that moment, when we're placed tightly together, leaving no room for my continually shrugging shoulders, and think that you'd get in the way.

You wouldn't, though. I'm interested in you, because if you're like me, then you haven't shown many people past what I see. If I took a hammer and cracked your shell, you would scream. You would inject me with a revolting poison, making me thrive with pain and fear, fear of getting close to something so viciously deadly.

I don't think it will work on me, though. Because, I know that if I endure your poison, crack your shell, your combination, and maybe your heart, you'll give me all of you. You'd bare your body and soul to me, and sleep, curled up and unprotected next to my corresponding form.

I'll continue to watch you; I'll do it differently now, though. I'll watch you as you speak to me. I'll talk as you look at me. I'll wait, for my stubborn words to crack that concrete shell. There will be a door beneath, I'm certain, that will open far more willingly than anyone would expect. And I'm excited to see you behind it.

You're me, but only on the outside. I see myself in you. But, reflections can only tell so much. You are my mirror… and I can't wait to see who's behind the glass.