Francesca Redlich Poet I do not know?

A Glass

A glass.
Hollow, clear, innocent.
A glass.
Cool water dripping, drowning, devouring.
A glass.
An ocean flowing, raging, white capped fury,
Overloading me with the fear
Of dying, crying, sighing
Into a shoulder, of a bolder, colder, older
Lover who cares, shares, bares his soul to
Me. The one, the only for him.
A glass.
I see through him like an ordinary glass of water
He is anything but.
He is exotic, erotic, platonic,
A nuclear explosion of flavour
A cool sip of a tall drink.
A glass.
He is the glass man, he stands above and beyond
Everyone. A new sensation,
He chills, stills, and drills me to the point
Of no return,
I burn, churn, yearn for his touch.
A glass.
He smells of warmth, safety, a haven
To make me brave.
Signature, a stifling sandalwood, peppermint,
A hint of disappointment.
A glass is not what I see,
A glass is not what I want,
That’s why a glass is…
Everything you are not.
A glass.
Transparence, need, emotion,
Foreign to him, another language 
As it seems.
He is transparent, like trying to see through metal,
Impossible, yet I do.
I see you behind your wall
A glass.

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