we are staring at each other through different sides of the looking glass.

i am afraid of knowing how you see me.

​

this glass is like a wall.

there was never an instance we could get any closer than a few inches apart.

you were okay with that but i wanted to hold you.

​

i can only define myself in relation to others.

there is only one context that i find myself fortunate enough to decipher,

though i hate it,

and that is my looking-glass self when you are staring through to the other side.