Each of you,
has touched me in your own way,
held a part of me; inside you.
And when I walked, on Tuesday mornings,
beneath the bright blue sky, and drifted in thought,
I could see my face, a little bent, a tad--
distorted,
when I looked at the way you reacted to me.
And now what is left is just a mirror,
solid and hard, and cold and dead,
no longer twisting my reflection.
YOU ARE READING
Please Don't Touch
PoesíaPlease 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...
