Original Poetry

Other Side of the Glass

At the beginning of a lot of things, there was you,

And there was me --

We were children, shy and silly,

Intoxicated by summer and nourished by books.

It was a timid dance we danced,

Night after night and day after day;

I wanted to understand you,

And it worried me and delighted me both,

That I couldn't seem to.

The line between the end of you and the beginning of my imaginings

Blurred to incomprehensibility.

But in that somewhere pocket, I learned to love you --

And furthermore, I learned how to keep it hidden when you were unable to accept the offer,

Learned to let my colors paint an invisible canvas, let my notes be suffocated in my chest,

Learned that not all beauty can be shared.

In this moment, it is an easily upset balance of forced jokes and dreams I kick myself for dreaming,

A guessing game of what happens on the other side of the glass --

A reminder of you tucked into commonplace words, the tingling comfort of a blanket,

A pair of dirty shoes, an azure-eyed tiger, a monster under the bed,

The biting of my lip, the warmth behind my eyes that comes without a warning like an earthquake --

An ultimate "what-if" hanging over it all.

And the only end I can foresee as my petals fold in, tiring of drinking sunlight,

Is you walking away, eyes frozen wide at the monster fighting and clawing its way out of my chest;

And I think I would cry, since I'm especially good at it,

But I would not at all be surprised to be found standing still, eyes dry, chest aching,

Clutching my notebook to my chest and walking away with a scuff of one dirty shoe,

Having known all along that I must be just some girl who plays at being good with pretty words.