I stand at the window
my breath pressed painfully
against the glass as
I watch the freezing feathers fall 

Just beyond the glass --
out there in the flake and the frost --
his opaque form stares back at me 

I talk and his lips move
but no words are audible 

The thick-weak muscle in my
cavity
sighs heavily as the blood
plods through 

Each beat shakes our bodies and brings
our over-burdened heads
closer to the window casement
which will serve as the inclined pillow 

I stare
half-eyed
as he sheds his coat of
threadbare happiness
worn too often as of late 

I look through him at the
swirling snow on the other side 

At last, my failing head
finds the frame beside and
I close our eyes 

He still stands before me 

I can see through you too, you know