Glass Wall

I possess patience and compassion and integrity and sometimes hope and fingers.

Fingers that could entwine.

And maybe this isn't the time or the place, but I'm moving the hands on this clock.

And maybe I like to say maybe because it's better than no.

I'm standing, swimming, singing, sleeping, sighing, sitting...

And I'm living.

And You're living.

Obviously we already have more than enough in common.

But there's a truth that needs telling,

a fact that needs facing.

All we should have done is written in tear stains on your bedroom floor.