poetry

nothing

I didn’t think it even possible

to feel nothing

nothing

not even rain’s acidic burn
not even sun’s remorseful chill
not even wind’s resentful hatred
not even compassion’s thorny bramble
as it sliced bloodless fissures
into benumbed skin

only a gray ache
in the clearing
where once
we stood

and I wondered
if I had passed

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Eric

I've come to write.

4 thoughts on “nothing”

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