One-sided glass keeps your eyes from mine
hides half-remembered words from another day.
every excuse I've made to cover myself
never feels like your touch should.
Selfish desires burn the ground beneath my feet
but your footsteps echo in another room
where the blood doesn't pound in your veins,
where the glass shows you yourself.
And maybe my fists could shatter that glass,
but I don't want to face
the look in your eyes
the red on my knuckles
my nerves screaming
my breath coming short
when you take up all the air in the room.
No, I'm staying over here
calling it biding my time,
watching sand rush through the hourglass,
trying to compensate for the days I spend
pretending that you can see me,
staring at the smudges my hands have left on the glass.
Yes, I'm staying over here
while they tell me I'm wasting my time
waiting for you to remember
those half-forgotten words from another day.