Empty
I can't help thinking you are the star
I starved myself on the seventh day.
The cleanse was the rest
The response was my body rejecting itself
As if to remind me that it still worked well enough
To know it was poisoned.
He should know by now there is nothing
I can do with that information.
We have been here for a week.
The food I ordered on day three is still at the door.
The painkillers have spilt into the sink.
My sheets smell like something I should throw out.
I am as hollow as I was the day I was born,
As fragile and upset and vulnerable and desperate.
How am I supposed to rest
If I keep waking up not able to remember my name
Or how we got here in the first place?
Empty
Author's Note
Do I really even have an update schedule at this point?
This week's dedication goes to none other than Anra_Sjar because they said they look forward to my poetry every week and that might just be one of the best compliments I've ever received. Every week I look forward to sharing and reading your guys' comments! If you want a dedication next week you already know how this goes. I'm not even gonna say it. Show some love and have a great day!