I am at war with the boundaries that divide us
I urge with every muscle to strike them down
though the muscles themselves build the divisions
(my mind can never be in yours because
my body is separate and I will never be inside of you
as far as I desire to go)
there will always be tense heirarchies and lines-that-are-forbidden-to-cross and things
that you musn't say to a teacher, say, or a priest
and these invented boxes line our hearts and claim
that we are not created equal, all men and women are
endowed with certain unalienable rights
like the right to honesty, liberty,  and the pursuit of expression
that though I speak to you I may be fully me
but this can never be- you will always be you
so we must divide, now and stand on opposite sides
of the wall, look at each other through a glass
and though it seems we touch, we never can,
putting our hands up to a window, kissing through it
and my lips shall never meet yours-
and for that, I am at war with the glass;
I long for the warmth and the gentleness of your lips
but cannot, it is cold in between us, it is hell
to divide us and a damning cruelty
unites us beyond time, eternity, my heart beats divine
and you cannot feel it, and for that,
I am at war with the glass.