This Fragile Corridor

The lights sort of tell me your somewhere in there, waiting for the right time, the right moment, but there's always that reluctance that hinders your movement. In this hallway there is only forward and back or nowhere at all and you I've seen in the past and hope to meet in future. My dreams, though bleak and jaded, are of you, of me, waiting for the right time, the right moment, just sitting here afraid of the future, nursing the past, enjoying the present without you. With you in this fragile corridor. Such is the way I kite around your fickle dreams like smoke through open seams that you could only notice my entirety if you caught on to each and every one of me. But what you think you could be wrong even if it looks like we're sure. I see you; you see me, but there is such a hush in between that it's difficult to hear... us. And like a dream there's nothing much you can grasp for I am shadow dancing behind your curtained glass disappearing just as fast as the blink of your eye or the thoughts on your mind zipping there and by. It's rather odd how this all turned out where I'm suddenly in your mind making you flip your top and lose your head. This is kind of weird how there's nothing tonight that I can see except the you that belongs to me. And as much as I would like to hold that in my hands, I fear that some things small like your heart would break and melt through me like sand. Glass and sand. Glass and sand. Hourglass. Sleepy sand. You. Me. Sleepy sleepy. Time for me to wake. Reality, I take, is such a dream.