In her Loveless World

 

I am trying to piece it all together in my mind; 

  It's true I suppose: 

 

  "Something's we are just not meant to see". 

Insanely tragic, 

  I curl on my side, 

and reject any need to eat. 

Holed out to a shell, 

  What much is left of me to give? 

He comes years too late, 

  and She is cleaving at the last of me. 

Losing the war now, 

  I turn on my side, 

and pull the covers up over my shoulders. 

Water, 

I forgot to drink. 

Day in. Day out. 

  He too comes back to make a shell outta me. 

But I...

  I have nothing left to give. 

Perhaps all along, 

  They stole it from me, 

      Siphoning off 

  But never little by little. 

The demons rather, 

    Bloodletted me, 

and made gains 

  Off of the fading light 

  and the increasingly shaded greys.