The emptiness and transparency of a glass window pane.
Palms pressed against the coldness, the sharpness,
The hurting. The drops of liquid that aren't falling.
A fogging with each breath, warmth upon ice,
Break it. No, not enough to break.
And with each resurgence, that emptiness,
That fullness in my chest, overwhelms.
� Lishesque
6:21 pm Sunday 9th May 2004