My world is windows
Those of literal
And hypothetical.
Watching,
Observing,
A swarm of bees
Like honey
But with a
Sting that’s so quick
To harm

These windows.

I want to see clearly
Through the glass
I’ve made
Where knuckles
Bump
Everything
So far out
Of reach
It’s lonely
Behind

These windows.

Lately
It’s harder to open
The dark
For a kiss
Of warmth
I’ve all
But given
Up on
13 years.
Stales
The air
And again
I have nothing

But windows