I go to sleep, lonely.
When I open my eyes, the loneliness has grown and my heart hurts, it's heavy. There's a space in my heart that grows wider and deeper with every sunset and sunrise.
Invisible. I don't exist in my own life. With every inhale and exhale I fade away more. Without him even noticing. The pain is so intense, I've become numb. Dead to my own memories, insignificant in every small detail. I'm screaming, screaming from the bottom of a bottomless pit. He can't hear me.
Every touch to his body is without emotion. When he needs to fulfill himself, I'm only a body. No more than when I was paid to sell my soul.
Destitute. When I look in the mirror, there are remnants of a woman.

I long for the days when one caress lit up my insides. When a smile put chills down my spine and love could be made with eye contact. The scent of fresh made me want to crawl in bed and laugh and never emerge from the covers again. Where conversation could last for days, never in a hurry, because the most important people or things, were right there with us.

Hollow. Drowning and desperate.
I cry in random places at random times. I want the pain to leave me alone. To never have to feel this way. To wake up with a smile and roll over to make unforced love, that's real and desired. To laugh my day away and fill up my soul.

Tears. I thought they would dry up eventually. My heart and soul well up and gush out the hurt. I try to hold it in, hold it back, it overflows and I find myself wanting to be locked away in a dark room.

Broken. Shattered and unfixable.
I've made my life this.