I seem to only measure time
in units of when I last saw you.

black holes only devour what you feed them,
but I still try to fill this cavity in my chest
with your words,
with your love,
with your presence.
sometimes feeling whole is only
the homonym taking its place.

I gave up the sunlight
to lay in this grave.
I turned my back on life
to continue courting my demise.

but now,
I give up my grave
to bask in your warmth.
I give you the words of love
I used to save for death’s ears.

I give up parts of myself to fill in your blanks,
and though so much of me is missing,
I am better when you are whole.