My Window

You are my window,
my only escape from this hell.
You let in enough light
to show that I can be happy,
that there is something more than this.
And when I touch you, I’m so close.
I feel the warmth of a world outside of this cold room,
it spreads like the happiness that begins with you.
But when I step away from the pane,
I am left with the same amount of hurt.
And I watch you,
remaining the same as everything changes around you.
And you affect me.
Sometimes you’re happy,
the window is clean,
you show me perfection,
and I have hope.
But you endure the abuse of some many who don’t care,
covered in fingerprints,
the images you show are distorted.
And it hurts.
Because I know perfection does not last,
I know this feeling of happiness cannot last.
And you get cold
and no matter what I do, you will not reopen,
will not let me have anything beyond a cold exterior,
but you are my window,
the image I cannot walk away from,
the frame I will not leave behind,
the light I cannot escape.