Touching the Pain

The window pane
Pain behind the window
A smudged palm-print
Provides evidence of escape,
Her escape, not mine

I’m a man in chains
Chains of hope and desire
I’m relapsing
I’m relapsing into caring
I’m relapsing into needing and wanting,
Needing and wanting physical contact

I stumble back from the window,
With all-the-grace of a long-retired, one-trick-pony
Should I touch the pane?
Should I re-touch the pain?

I open my book of secrets,
Secrets and lies, evidence of
Previous lives lived and lost.