Death has become just another skin
to shed,
flaking bits of flesh; painful to lose,
at first,
but they scab over, grow new layers.
Heal.
Turning the head over the shoulder,
to realize the world is not as one remembers,
this is the most excruciating part for me,
not to see that I have aged myself, but to watch
the world I knew, crumble; disappear.
YOU ARE READING
Please Don't Touch
PoetryPlease Don't Touch is my first self-published book of poetry, written and published originally in 2012. #51 in Poetry, 3 June, 2017 #85 in Poetry, 4 June, 2017 #108 in Poetry, 25 May, 2017 #136 in Poetry, 26 May, 2017 #149 in Poetry, 24 May, 2017 #1...
