Disappearing

A short piece about feeling invisible/unseen and alone.

Waif-thin, I am ethereal

with fingers splayed,

I am outstretched,

my invisibility a mockery

and a monument.

 

Your blindness, my blessing-

uncertain, I exist

and in this ghost-like state

I softly fade.

Opportunity beckons.

 

Sculpted clay,

I reinvent myself

 

(and elsewhere, another's speech

wrings honey from your fingertips).

Author's Note

As always, all polite/relevant reviews are welcome - including constructive critique, grammar and spelling corrections. And thank you for reading/leaving a review!

Reviews

[James Paulin]

The descriptive fagueness is wonderfully provacative. We do change and this poem demonstrates it perfectly.

[Geralyn Miller]

Intriguing. It makes me wonder what makes you feel so invisible?