Blessed Curses

In the windows I saw her Reflective, tangible dream So many windows, none of opportunity I will love her like a stalker I can feel her presence, pressed against glass She gnaws on nails, I do mind but don’t When will we cross paths when will These two parallels become perpendicular and touch I’m sure she’s another’s, his, not mine Not owned, but acquired Here I go again wishing I was someone else But how odd is it that scene never alters Same table, same company, same hand on which she gnaws It should be bleeding by now My eyes are, as my heart; crying I wish I couldn’t see them , they can’t see me My third eye is smitten with specters