His Masterpiece

He watches me like a movie, trying to find his favorite part, when he knows there isn't one.

His eyes scan my essence like a critic does to a piece of art, trying to determine the meaning behind me.

His stare latches itself onto my best features, the way a readers does when rereading their favorite book.

His gaze follows my movements, like an attendee at a ballet.

He loves me, his masterpiece.