Gold

I can hear the movements
of your fingers extending,
reaching, clicking,
in the bedroom-
so focused
on that screen
as though this were the
gold,
and my legs
become boards
while in the room
farthest away
I am frozen with the fear
that I have lost you
forever.
Can't you see
my childlike face?
I feel like a glass dome
without your skin
filling mine;
I am so breakable
but so substanstially
inconsistent.
Make me you,
oh God
don't let your footsteps
patter down the hall,
just give me all of you
is that too much to ask?