glass fists, glass jaw.

In the rain, your life misted up against the glass,
shifted; slight shuffles with sly feet towards the warmth
and the ripples of the glass, fogging more and less as with the tide
sure, steady rhythm bringing you home as if to the arms of a lover.

The beautiful cold splinters, baptized in rain and glass,
new eyes and new rain all precious gold dust in distant mines,
and life escapes upwards to dance with the sun in warmer skies,
with your memories of gold and red flooded sweeter dusks.

But in the rain, your life misted up against the glass,
safe inside, whole. But I stayed hollow
while mine flooded out, my mind on the outside,
shaking and fumbling home in the rain.