and I am empty
I am empty, holding your firm body to my chest
the feeling of your rib cage eating away
at what is supposed to be me
I am supposed to be here
your post mortem jet lag is nothing I
couldn't have guessed at before
unable to rest as you are here rather than I
why is it that you're so tangible
it was supposed to be you that was a shell
and yet you are here in my shell
the whole of what is left of me aching
to keep you in this strangle hold
I am full of what you've become
and I am empty