they say a broken heart
is a void
that needs to be refilled
in order to be repaired.
but darling ,
my broken heart isn't the void.
the void
is the space you occupied

our yellow mornings , aubades strung in the rising light.
our crystal cerulean afternoons , the sky clearer than our minds.
our byzantine evenings , we can smell the rain from inside.
our pure black nights , drowning in the heaving weight of our day.

now they are all seconds
seconds to minutes
minutes to hours
hours to days
days that drag me through and through
because i dont have
a reason to wake up
and be sanguine
for what the day
has in store for me
like i used to.