I watch the sun, but feel no flame, It glows a line I dare not cross. She moves like art I can't reclaim— A vision loved, then lost in gloss. I speak at a glance, barely seen, A shadow wrapped in a quiet plea. She’ll never see what lies between, Just fingers grasping at the sea. The dreams I hold are fragile glass, They gleam, then tear the hands that hold. She walks in the halls I’ll never pass, A name I touch, but never fold. And so I love the silent breath, A battle fought without a cry. What stings is not the thought of death— But knowing I won’t reach the sky.