(no subject)

[icedink]

I lied.

I am sad.

I am empty.

More than sad, I am empty.

Empty, with no one and no thing the object of my grief.

It's not about you. It's not aimed at you.
Who would you even be, if it were?

There's only this heavy nothing, sitting on my chest.

I'd fling it away, if it could be moved.
Surely it can't be more than a feather,
but super-glued in place.

I want so much. I can give so much. Can do so much.

Why do I let this creep into my life instead?