Between Frosted Glass

In the elevator, two brief glances,

quick retreats, awkward dances.

Your shadow behind frosted glass,

a stranger passing, too afraid to ask.

Walls hum with silent noise,

a chorus of unspoken ploys.

We live so close yet worlds apart,

speaking only with averted heart.

The silence stretches, thick and thin,

touching but never breaking in.

In that pause, I feel the cost—

a quiet world, where warmth is lost.