NUMB

In the mist,
myth of
your phantom sails
the sun wails
upon the skin

Footprints,
weigh above
the eyes,
soft hands may hide
defeat beneath the win

numb,
a wooden bench
to console,
this thing
larger than the soul,

hands bleeding
a heart red,
of things said
ancient and bold
fingers cold
and
still your palms
were left unread.

Reviews

[willweb]

Definitely numbing. This poem held a certain sadnes and loneliness that was expressed extremely well. I enjoyed this today.