The calls i give out
Burn in my throat,
Blocked by a sense
Of something i can't control.
As we no longer speak
All the blood in me
Can no longer bleed,
Now cold at the fingertips
And starved at the heart.
Empty rooms that were made for you
–That always wait for you,
That always yearn for you–
Rot beneath my dazzled belongings,
Mold because you can never belong to me.
But they'll always be there,
They'll always belong to you.
YOU ARE READING
'heartache'- poetry
Poetry"i am nothing to you, but you are everything to me." (these poems are also in my other poem book 'Inside Me')
