numb

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with a promise: i'd never look at this crystalline water again.

i've travelled most of this world;

faced countless hurricanes and whirlpools

myriad bruises and scars i have

though healed and conceded,

i remember clearly how each bruise and scar woven on my porcelain skin

i've met few voyagers along my journey; i've met one,

a week feels like centuries

a soul i felt i knew

we shared cold nights and luminous days

until dawn,

a pirate stole my treasure

i can't trace nor find wherever he is,

i grew tired and got numb,

i wonder, does he still remember me clearly?

ninth avenue - poetryWhere stories live. Discover now