Today I think I could reach out and touch that piece of hair falling over your eyes,
twist it into place behind your temple and hold it back with a bobby pin.
Today your voice is a temple.
Today I hear vibrations in your larynx before you even have a chance to speak.
Today I think I could reach out and grab your words, twist them into carbon fiber
and build a concrete monastery out of everything you say.
Today I could lock us both inside.
Today I could reach out and touch that tinge of loneliness falling over your eyes,
twist it together with mine and hold it back with a bobby pin.
Today I could reach out and touch you.