stop winking

I began writing a letter
to you
about the story
of how I hated the glass between us

but the paper slipped and
the ink run off
maybe it was a sign
that I had nothing to say

I incessantly have the need
of reassuring myself
with knowing
what's happening

and the thing with you is
I have no idea
what is happening
between us

I can't live without symmetry
or order
and your edges are smudged
and you're a complete mess

but you're