At first glance, he seemed within reach,
but my heart was set on something far beyond.
As he began to warm my heart,
he started to slip away—just out of reach.

From a distance, I could only glance at him,
yearning for a touch, a moment, anything.
He was like shattered glass,
broken by the very poison he kept drinking.

And I—
I wished he would let me heal him,
let my love be the cure his body and soul needed.
But he never wanted it.
He chose the poison over the antidote.

He would rather drown in that endless loop of hopelessness
than reach for the hand that could save him.
Oh, how I wished he would.
Oh, how I wished he would turn and look at me.
Oh, how I could have cured him.

But his little heart watched in silence
as others indulged the poison he craved.
He doubled it. Tripled it.
And slowly, he began to fade.

When our eyes no longer met,
I stood still.
And instead of reaching out again—
I watched.
I let him go.
I let him enjoy the poison he loved more than life itself.

And so, I turned my gaze inward.
He missed my glance.
He felt its absence.
And he wondered why I stopped looking.

But by then—
I was miles away from him and the love he rejected.
I had moved on.
The cure he once refused
became the very poison he could never have again.

He missed his chance.
He regretted it.
Now he’s trapped in that same loop.
Everything he wants is out of reach.

No one spares him a glance.
He is invisible.
Worthless in the eyes of others.

He may never feel the warmth of someone’s gaze again.
Now, he must choose—
to find a new cure,
or a poison that kills more slowly.