2

Months have passed since the incident.

Things have happened, and I--

for better or for worse--have changed

as a person; I've lost the sparkle in my eye.

Perhaps the medicine takes it away,

but I can't help thinking

my eyes were dull long before that.

I had gone to see a doctor

to tell me what's wrong with my brain,

for its walls are stained with 

your dreadful name. Every day,

I have read the wretched words,

time and time again

remembering how once

they sounded sweet to me. 

The doctor told me I was sad

but I know I'm much more than that

I'm something you cannot

put into words, 

something abstract 

yet immense;

larger in magnitude

than the black holes of space

yet just as dark,

and just as hollow,

and just as bleak. 

Ever since the incident

I've laid awake at night

if crying didn't put me to sleep

and I've thought

and thought

and thought 

about why I'm still here

why I haven't got it in me

to throw you on your knees

and leave you for dead