By Chris Wharton
Date: 22 June 2000
Filled/Unfilled
She lay there,
unknowingly prostrated before oblivion,
affording no peace in her silence.
Her conquered lungs releasing
the black breath of tragic ends to be.
Her muted voice filling a quiet room
with the din of death.
I see the shell of her...
what once carried her beauty and happiness,
what once carressed me and kept me warm.
I see what once
gave a voice to her love for me,
gave her eyes for me to see it,
gave her a body for me to feel it,
gave her a place for me to know it.
My shell is still filled with love for her,
but she cannot hear my voice,
she cannot see my eyes,
she cannot feel my body,
she cannot know it.
My love is lifeless.
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