Beyond My Fingertips

Sometimes in the intensity of loneliness

a silhouette of your face makes a block within my mind

and sometimes as I reach for the silhouette

I feel it shatter into dust beyond my fingertips

It hasn't just faded to be recalled at a later destiny

but disappeared into the shallow depths of my mind

like a memory which has been vanquished

by amnesia with no hope of surfacing.

I am blocked in by four white walls

which relinquish me to lonelinee

and soak the pit of my brain with their dull, white body.

Yet, I am not cleansed from its wrath

but thrown in a whirlwind of mass confusion

until my body has struck the walls

and I fall helplessly to the floor

--and still yet I cannot see your fce

Only the dust swept across my fingertips.

Robin Coe is a journalist and author. She wrote the fantasy novel "Fly on the Wall" and graphic novel "Illustrated Book of Wrath".

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prashant angiras profile image

prashant angiras 5 years ago from shimla(india)

yes this happens in the lonely hour and we cannot recall the faces,just a blurred image..i liked the way you have have expressed this in your poem..

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