Debris

From strangling my heart with your presence

To feeling my own skin with my own fingers

This is what remains

From the glitter of the turbulent youth on my cheeks

To the freckles of despaired youth.

This is what remains.

From loving you like a mad dog

To holding on to that last thread of hope.

This is what remains.

From smouldering in your words and the chiseled body

To struggling to paint a picture of yours.

This is what remains.

From shedding the clothes of what belonged to you

To packing myself up in a rug.

This is what remains.

From laying myself down like the land beneath your feet

To completely giving up on everything.

Now it’s ME that remains.

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