What lies on the other side
Of this beautiful transparency
That mocks with a love you cannot reach
Unless you wield a hammer, an axe
And shatter its false strength
Into dust so fine it will be lost to the quietest breeze?
Better to stay the other side of the glass,
Breathe love like condensation on to clear panes
And enjoy drawing dissolving pictures
Of how love might look
On the other side of the window.