sliding friction,
glass-smooth touch
sweeping over your frame
cool, like a windowpane
early in the frosted morn
release, and leave my fingerprints
for you and I to marvel at,
and wonder how they got there.

I always wanted to feel that, the outside,
but never thought I would.
Yet here I am, drinking you in
in deep draughts that spike through me
like a flood of ice-cold water.
Awaken me, and I will shiver
under your wanted words.