Over Here, From The Other Side

What do you think of a face across the screen hundreds of thousands of miles away?
 
What do you think of Niagra Falls though you've never breathed it?
 
Do you get attached to expedited linguistics like falling in love with Lord Byron through a cemented writing?
 
Fingers clasping the sun on high,
traveling to omnipresence
that through the sun, they reach another palm feeling in the air for what it doesn't see,
but feels for with instinct.
 
That screen on your phone or mirror
ties the fate of two dimensions.
Though you may never cross,
the hopes do
and crack
smash
shatter a chain through the sterile enforced glass.
 
Cracked screen.
Wet resignation out of the eye.
 
Here. We're bound in silver,  
in shackles.
So cold.
But I'm bound to you.