The Glass


Behind the glass, is my heart.

I would hug you, and not realize

That each time,

It was a gift.

I would punch you, or push you

Unbeknownst to me, that one day I wouldn’t be allowed to.

I reached for you

But could not touch you.

I cried for you, but my tears were futile.


I extended my hand to the glass,

your hand matched mine on the other side.

It was the closest I could get,

to a touch;

a hug was out of the question….


But, in a few months, the glass will be gone.

I hope the Caribbean breeze will make your limbs strong,

Because when I see you,

It will be the first time after I realized that

Hugging you,

is a gift.


So brace yourself, and know

That when I grab a hold,

I will squeeze,

and hours will go by

Before I let go


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