Empty

Sitting here stoned
Remembering him and how he fit
Perfectly in the palm of my hand
Perched on his lap, head on his chest
The rumble of his voice

He was the green to my grey
The one who held my heart

Now I’m sitting alone
My face in my hands
Tears leaking over the edges of my palms

And I’ve never felt more empty


©️tara caribou – 2018

7 thoughts on “Empty

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