Spectator Without A Sport

Must we insist on peering through windows
others have forgotten to close?

Time and time again we look, if only
for a moment, as hearts and lives

unravel like a garment worn and loved
for too long. It's cold inside

and the breeze chills my skin. If you could
see me alone in my room

what would you make of me?
If I could see you alone tonight

with tears streaking your face
what conclusion could I draw?

Close the window before moonlight
touches your skin again.