the breeze riffles through
that empty place in my heart
where my feelings for you
were once hoarded, treasured
til the day they drained away
slipped through the hole
you wore in my short-lived patience
where they dropped like rocks
right through the illusion
you needed me and it shattered

sometimes it's better
to put an end to the slow torture
of my own sandpaper needs
scraping across the wounds
you gifted me with

i feel hollow and lightweight
free? or sick?
sometimes the difference is the same

07/11/2003

Author's Note: in a nutshell, bf problems complicated by pmsing.
sometimes i feel unreal and stiff wind would blow me down.

Posted on 07/11/2003
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