Sitting here in tear stained skin and cracking bloodied lips, I can feel the exact spot in my soul from which you are missing.
Beneath the rib, buried in the lung, maybe if I search I can find the remnants of the sickness you forced into me. Maybe if I really searched.
Can you see the hollowness that has become me? The emptiness that has swallowed me whole? Can you hear my breaths pushing against the wall crushing my chest? The melodic beating breaking busting of something somewhere shattering?
Reach out to me. Feel me once again. Taste my poisoned, swollen mouth and pull me home by the throat. Please. Because I can feel the exact spot in my soul from which you are missing.
