quiet collapse
there is a hollow in my chest where your name still echoes, a space carved by hope that never learned how to die.
i reach for you in the dark knowing you are not there, knowing you chose to forget the sound of my voice.
we built something— or maybe i built it alone, hands bleeding, calling it love because i needed it to mean something.
you walked away untouched. i stayed behind, counting the pieces, calling the ruins beautiful so they might hurt less.
you filled your absence with someone new. i filled mine with silence so heavy it cracked my ribs.
i keep breathing around the emptiness, around the truth that i was easy to replace, that i gave everything and it was still not enough.
this is what devastation sounds like— not thunder, not screaming, but the quiet collapse of a heart that keeps beating when it no longer wants to.
-CC