I stare out my window at you
And sometimes catch a glimpse of myself:
I do not know if it is a reflection in the window
Or if your image reminds me of my own.
I wonder if I stepped outside
And truly saw you
If I could better comprehend myself—
But I am afraid.
So I stare and feel a strange joy
When you seem to see the one inside.
I keep the foolish, futile hope
That you will come and take me
From my isolation.
Yet I am grateful this window of silence
Prohibits you from hearing my plea.