The walls of my world are numb to touch.
Split with longing, they stand alone,
the only light inside, my own.
That burning flame that lit my youth
reduced to ashes, has left a gap
to which this poem is a map.
For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 581 prompt words are: walls world numb touch spilt longing own burning flame gap light ashes. Image of burned house by Hans Isaacson on Unsplash.