You would think with the loss of my first
Love that I would be flowing with pain-ridden
Words, but mostly I’m just empty.

I wish I could say empty only in the
Metaphorical sense, I do. Yet the anger
And anxiety swell up inside me and all
My hard work spills out into that lovely
Porcelain throne of mine.

I gave pieces of me away freely and now
That they’ve been tossed back, they don’t
Fit properly in place. I’ve tried switching
Things around, but the pieces are useless now.
Misshapen fragments of what they used to be.

There’s this fear creeping around that I’m
Just bitter now, but when I flip through
My thoughts, it’s just bitterness for him.
That boy, and a boy it seems he shall
Forever remain, deserves nothing but
My hostile words. Though words are
worthless to those who cannot hear.

I’ve spoken my heated words to the
One I once loved and am not satisfied.
I’m afraid I can’t do this on my own.