Emptiness echos in my hollow chest
cracking my brittle bones.
Panic digs in like roots causing lumps in my throat,
I crave what I will never get back,
the parts of me that died the day you said
“I love her”
My insecurities gasp for a deciduous substance,
a decaying love that was once timeless.
I inhale this fleeting illusion fed by doubt
and hide in between the smoke of a midnight cigarette
and words that fill the blank pages of my journal.
I wait to exhale.
I wrote this awhile back. Needs work.
