He watches...
Her hair go up into a coiffed up-do, makeup applied just so
Her dress accentuating her figure as she gets ready to go
A spritz of his favorite perfume, jewelry occupying its space.
Every action readies her, fixes her armor in place.
No time wasted but somehow still chaotic...
Dysfunctional efficiency at its finest.
....And he watches.
The sway of her hips as she walks to the car,
Her handbag white-knuckled, he whispers "You know whose you are."
Her lips forming the words "Thank you" as he hands her into her seat.
She sits regal and proud, an unwitting queen, a delectable treat
Deep, even breaths - mentally prepping for the night.
Head bobbing to the music, singing off-key with all of her might.
Nervousness slips away as she intertwines their hands.
In this bubble of safety there is freedom from worldly demands.
She lets it all go, remembering his commands.
....And he watches.
As she weaves her way through the throng.
Dancing here with a word, there with a touch, her nervous laughter a song.
No one can tell she feels out of her depth, but he knows.
He admires her command as she hopes nothing shows.
She is captivating, a siren - each person helplessly in thrall.
But they don't know her, not really, aren't allowed past her wall.
Only he knows the truth and provides sanctuary, a safe space from it all.
Because he watches....
