Smudges on Glass

Smudges on Glass

Behind the cracks
and the smudges 
left by a broken heart 
I can see you. 

Well, 
I think I see you. 
I like to say 
that I can see you. 
But even when one goes to look 
at something wild and beautiful 
behind glass 
you don't know what she is really thinking. 

Quite literally I came through the door
and into your life 
as you welcomed yourself
into mine. 

We had people 
we still have people 
more or less 
but I can't get you out of my mind. 

I don't know what it is, 
and why I have so much compassion 
for the soul behind the glass. 

You drift in and out of view 
and always seemed to be running
trying to break free 
the shackles of your past. 

I sit in my quite bed
and think you are just up those stairs
alone in your room 
with only the light of a screened window 
to comfort you 
with homely faces 
and past dreams. 

I wish I knew 
if I simply have a crush 
because I can only touch the glass 
and not the true beauty that lies 
on the other side. 

A longing for those coral lips, 
eyes of a vast and starry sky 
and tangles of hair that 
weave your delicate features 
into honest and true beauty. 

I try 
I try and keep cool
but when I do slip in 
behind the glass 
and hold you close 

I get lost in you 
its an interesting sensation 
as I feel with each blind 
but passionate kiss 
the decade that is behind you 
and the decade that is still ahead for me. 

I mean 
I wasn't lying 
that it wasn't the physical beauty 
that you have been perfected with, 
but its your almost unbearable personality. 

But I like it. 
I like the worst and best of you. 
Because isn't that what being a human, 
being real, 
having your struggles
your god-awful thoughts 
your laugh 
your smile, 
is all about? 

I think its the way you look at me 
before we lean in 
and it makes me feel 
well 
giddy? 

I have no clue how you are really looking at me 
you say its nothing 
but I've seen you look 
at others and I don't see those 
happy but weary sorrowed eyes
just the dash of intoxication 
and looking for the quick fix 
to the daylight troubles.

Maybe I just look for it 
and mistake my own reflection of longing 
from the glass walls 
you stay behind. 

I look at the days now with slight dread
because I can see things packing up 
and you moving away 
from display
and most likely for me 
to never see you again. 

It makes my heart ache. 
Is it the fear of having a friend go away 
when it is in a sense 
partially my fault 
for having my heart in the right place?

Because the I think 
the happiest moment 
from the other night 
was cleaning your lipstick smudges 
and finding your smile under them. 

That wonderful smile 
that for the briefest of moments 
let us break through the glass wall
and touch the feelings 
we know in the sobering light of day  
we can not feel.