but there is nothing left to write about
i’ve exhausted all the colorful ways to describe loss
smeared yellow paint in places it shouldn’t touch
to describe this most hollow feeling
that can only truthfully be painted grey
and i feel
that if i keep writing
i’ll run out of ways to say i’m hurting
run out of poetic ways to phrase my pain
run out of ways to detach myself from this reality
run out of time and place and keep
running
until i’ve run out of what i once thought was endless