untitled.

the ever-so-inviting feeling:
the balled up fist of my stomach clenching
tight around...
absolutely nothing.
the same amount he's given to you
(because he's been giving it all to her, you know)
the same thing you see
when you look yourself in the mirror lately
that same empty blackness
that's replaced
any sort of dream
that could have lit the lantern of your smile.
if only at night where no one could see it.
your brain, so wrecked, can't even
muster the strength to give you
images of him anymore. you can't even lie to yourself like that.
no you've got to become too small to care about it
so stop
and sit back
and close your eyes
and wait
for the hunger to pass.





(because just like love, these feelings always do.)