The Living Dead

The doors have been left ajar,

After you walked out.

And since then,

Everything stopped.

Like entrapped in a prism

With no way out,

The ray of light

Gropes in the dark.

The banks are now parched.

The gushing love no longer flows.

But hidden from daylight,

Like a subterranean river

Under the surface

Of the superficial world,

It secretly continues

To trace its way

Back home.

Petrified

And yet

Numb,

With a crater in my heart;

I’ve been here

For as long as

I could guess.

Motionless.

I look at my empty hands,

Those that were

Skilled and Sure

With an artistic bend.

Frail,

With no desire

To hold that brush again;

They’ve grown lifeless.

Words are fading,

Feelings are evading,

My identity bleaching.

Dark,

Bitter,

Silent,

Numbness…

Consuming me.