Feet across my heart;
The Unseeable footsteps
leave acres of pain.
You’re there, but you’re not.
Ghost-like, you pass through the door;
a breath on my face.
Eyes sweep over you,
lose their sight in the darkness.
Ears don’t hear your pleas.
You’re lost to me now.
Our hands’ embrace is stagnant.
It’s time to let go.
Existence in doubt.
A shadow and a memory,
all I want to keep.
The long road of history,
ripped up like it is nothing.
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Comments about this poem (Like Nothing by Dan Brown )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(18 November 1939)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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