A part of me dies every day.
Every day and night,
Some parts of my heart start to ache,
To stretch and to tear
Until the eyes are filled with the salted water.
How should it be told
And to who should it be told —
That there’s a hole inside
The hart of darkness?
Every empty moment
Haunts me:
The emptiness and silence and the drips of the rain
On the windows…
Edited on 31 July 2019.
Portrait of Em. 