Nothing
but the hollowed out infinity where my life once nestled amongst the luminous dunes of the Sands of Time and the nauseating hopes of Forever.

And I,
a hideous, putrid, rotting thing, attached to that nothing like a leech, summoning my own power from pain, taking, taking, but giving little to those who once offered their strength but now deny me.

Yet I give.

Nothing
but my withered soul, desperate in my cracked snow globe of a reality where the ashes of love flitter to the ground, so dazzling, so pure, so deceiving until they kiss the scarred earth.

And I
give my heart to them so secretly that they do not notice, do not appreciate my token through their suffering, until all that I am shrivels, wrinkled and useless, and nothing remains but a shallow whimper, the ghost of a sob.

And those cries fall upon deaf, cauliflowered ears, solid lumps with no purpose awaiting the soundwave that will finally shatter their silence.

Still I give.