Searching For A Metaphor

Like a whipped dog,
I sit in the glow
of the radiance you emit,
but on the dark side
of the sliding glass door.

Like an astronomer,
I watch and record
the celestial movements of your smile,
unable to do anything
but admire you
from my stony seat.

Like a frustrated composer,
I reach and extend
for the precise notes
that fall from you lips,
tearing my hair
when I fall flat.

Like a stranded dreamer,
I reach for you,
but you’re a door too far
and an ocean away
and across a depthless abyss
all at the same time.