I am empty.
You have taken every last word,
every phrase,
every letter,
every whisper.
They all belong to you now,
locked behind your weary eyes.
I can only hope that you keep them safe.
Because they are the last parts
of me that are still alive.
They are all that I have left.
And now they keep you alive too.
They are the warm mug of tea
on the mornings you feel weak,
and they’re the words that leave your mouth
when you feel too scared to speak.
You’ve ruined me.
Every last bit.
And this cavernous heart refuses
to drink deeply, for it knows the blood that
filters through it no longer has your touch.
You’ve ruined me, and I am empty.
But you are filled.
I am empty,
but I will be okay.