Untouched

As for me, I’m left untouched;
anticipation come undone,
and dead as flags without their wind -
my fingers melt into the sun.

I’d cry but cannot bear the thought
that tears would be the first to know
and set upon my skin like sharks
who hunt the salt for blood in tow.

I suppose that’s why I have returned,
to lean my love upon a crutch;
no matter for why the lonely shore,
I shall not leave untouched.