Dialectic of the Lost II

I've found
a window
has cracked open.

I'm ashamed
of the hot air
wisping out
the sliver.

I'm always
---------------reaching
for the next
one
to tell myself too.

Who will let me
be a part of them?

I know better--
everyone is another
I could
have been.

Still,
the stinging
echo of
the distinction--
the proclamation
of distance.