Angel Under Shatterproof Glass

Yesterday, today, tomorrow,

I find her perfectly preserved

and waiting for me

in a world under my finger,

just outside my grasp,

so close that I know

this will be the moment

that I finally touch her.

This will be the moment

that my grey eyes

joyfully drowning in blue light

finally see her love,

real and raw and warm,

instead of an oh-so-realistic

pixelation of the truth -

the mirage I always mistake

for honesty until

that very last moment

when I realize my finger,

starved for touch,

cannot extend,

no matter how desperately it reaches,

through shatterproof glass

to touch her wings

on the other side.