poetry collection

One

Nothing.
A feeling I grew into
A vine that crept up my throat
A poison that infected my mind
A bee that stung my heart
It was my favourite word
Learned to love it
It didn't have meaning
It didn't have questioning
It was just
Nothing.
A rooted silence,
A new bruise,
Grass stained jeans,
An old scar
It's existing without notice
It isn't anything
It's simply
Nothing.