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Aging

Remembering
      has etched the flesh
            from my bones.
I’m barely an outline:
      No one knows what I knew.
      No one sees what I saw.
      No one else feels what I felt.
Just
      over and over
I re-enter rooms
      vacated by those I loved,
A skeleton
      lurching from door to door
With no lungs or throat
      to leverage
            even a single sigh,
Only my heart remains
      to ache.

This poem was published in the September 2016 issue of Disturbed Digest.