It was time to leave.

The darkness you left me in is crawling into my veins and arteries.
Making home in the hollowness of what used to be a heart.

The vulgarness in your language that night has made friends with my white blood cells, so recalling you makes me sick.

The silence doesn't dawn on me until I look down at my hands.
You claimed ownership to them.
You used to hold them with love beaming from your palms.

I shrudder at the sight of happy lovers.
We are no longer lovers.
And happiness is a thing of the past.