That December,
I was a mess.
A pile of broken bones
And discarded hopes.
Skin clammy and lips cracked,
Devoid of anything.
You ignored it,
All of it.
Now, it’s April.
Two years later
And I’m still a mess.
I’m still a pile of broken bones
And discarded hopes.
My skin is still clammy
And my lips are still cracked.
I’ve still devoid of everything.
But mostly?
I’m devoid of you.