I am here, but do you see me? I Twitter my voice, but do you know me?Â
I want to step from my box, my canvas, my rectangular prison.
 I can see your face, but I cannot touch you.
 I want to feel something. A touch maybe. A breath. Your laughter.
I imagine you. Are you wearing red today? Do you wonder about me?
Do we look at each other like pieces of art, hanging from the wall, imagining what could be, but never daring?
