Glass Walls
I’m sitting in a chair. How did I get her? Where am I? Does it matter though, now that I’m here?
He’s sitting beside me. He’s smiling, laughing, glowing perfectly the way he does, the way he always did.
I reach out to him, suddenly overcome with the urge to touch him, stroke his cheek, run my fingers through his hair and feel the heat of his skin,
But my hands clash with something clear and cold. Freezing and solid. Like crystallized ice. A wall of ice. No, glass. But why glass? Heartless, soulless, unforgiving glass.
I bang and thrash against it. I cry and scream and beg for it to crack and shatter. But it doesn’t. It blocks my way and stretches on into nothingness.
Is this my fate? Such despair? To forever see and want the man I love but never touch, never feel or hold? To be prevented by this cruel glass wall?
