Reach out

There is a pane of glass between me and the world,
in which your eyes are echoed,
I push my hands against the glass.
I see your outline,
though a little hazy
through the smoke of confusion.
My tongue lashes your name.
My palms anticipate the warmth
of you hands against mine,
as my blood throbs
and my skin swells.
You extend a hand,
only to touch the glass and
tease my senses.
My digits whimper southwards.
Sliding down the smooth,
cold
glass in
disappointment.
So instinctly do my
tongue
and teeth
scribe your name against the glass.
In the mist, you are but colours.
Youre everything Ive ever needed, known.
I cant quite pick out
the delicacy of
your heart.
Sometimes when I squint,
something beats.
My mind twists the motions into dances and
declarations
of love.
Whilst really,
your heart writhes
in panic.