How much emptiness have they filled you up with today?
He’d tell you about the green-eyed 20-year old who stole his heart decades ago
And the gap in his chest the size of her fist where God chose to hit him
He’d talk of oblivion and angry mornings and sunsets
How empty are you today? Not enough?
Remember when what kept you up at night wasn’t heartache? I don’t.
But I remember when it was too black and white you had to drown yourself in colors others splashed
And you’d draw a mountain on their backs each time you climbed over them
Did it feel like victory?
Did you fuck the melancholy away?
Are you empty enough? Not yet?
He’d fill his dark corners with names and stories, shadows crawling for company
He’d watch them ignite a fire he knows he shall step on
But the efforts, the blood, the sweat, the warmth
He’ll kill them. He likes his cold.
Remember when I asked you if the light meant anything?
It didn’t, we just didn’t know.
Next time you fill your gardens with artificial roses, would it remind you of me?
I hope it does.
How empty is your emptiness today?
Because mine is empty enough.


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