Empty Grasp

My boyfriend of 3 years left me, so, I wrote this.

It’s always been a tunnel.

But the tunnel had lights,

And I had a guide to hold my hand.

But he’s gone, and with him went the lights.

 

Each foot step becomes heavier than the last.

It’s taking more and more effort just to continue onward,

I await the moment when fatigue wins,

And leaves me to rot in my own emptiness.

 

So as I drag heavy feet,

My hands are held forward,

Grasping blankly for something, anything.

But they’re only met with darkness.