...poetry?

Something I sent to my aunt/psychotherapist after she sent me a poem she'd written, and I gloriously continue expressing my own issues by transposing them onto my characters. Johannes speaking to Mirek, in this case.

Lament for Glass

Fingers touch a pane of glass
Clear to the point of disappearance,
But solid under the hands, cold.

You blink, you smile.
Lashes close and open,
Dark liquid eyes.

You're beautiful to see,
To touch, magical,
But I cannot touch you.

Why are you hidden in plain sight?
Why can you not be touched when my hands
Offer nothing but kindness, softness, love?

What must I do to touch you?
To coax you out from walls of glass
Into the welcoming sun?