Wrists of soil…

The light teeters on the edge of dull,

The hum is enough to be a buzzkill,

It gives me knots in my stomach,

Wailing wind suffers not,

Wailing mouths laughed in your face,

Your wrists of soil faced outwards to the sun,

No glistening here where life’s contained,

No shimmer in your eyes,

Seeing you win but you chose to fail,

I was left to guess,

In your shoes did I sleepwalk?

Or did I sleep on you altogether?

Days aren’t getting easier yet,

You’re a recent wound.