#5

A few years ago
I fell in love
with a peeping Tom.
I was frightened
at first
by the upper half of his
face making it's way
across my second story
bedroom window
but was reassured
by my experience that
all relationships
begin with fear.
And as time went on
Tom's gaze became
softer,
as I knew it would,
changing from a
glacial glare
of squinted eyes and
a tense forehead
to a
warm pleading...
big, black, deer-esque
eyes that said,
without a harshness,
"open this window,
let me in."
And I never did
let him in,
but I loved that half
of his face
wholly,
wholly,
through the glass.