An Ode to Sinking Sorrows

There should be a word for the gap in our souls, for this hollow space in our chest where our hearts used to be.

I reach out for myself, dragging my hand all the way down my trembling lips, my bruised neck, my aching collarbones, and notice the cracks stretching infinitely into that lonely cave they call heartbreak. I let my hand wander further and find my skin a vast ocean of memories. My eyes water, my tears forming pool and tracing an island of scars.

There should be a word for that lonely break between your sentences, for that deep long exhale before you lift your head and tell me it is over.

I am covered in deep-sea water and I am drowning. I am breathless for a moment. I feel my ancient lungs heaving only to realize that it is my mouth that’s gasping for air.

There should be a word for that loud eternal silence after someone has walked out of the room and slammed the door and never looked back to leave a sorry or a goodbye.

I let my arms flutter in the water as if they were wings. I have feathers for fins and a thousand version of disbelief, but I am flightless, useless. I hear them say,

“You were a phoenix long before he came around and said you could fly.”

There should be a word to define the distance it takes to abandon a person, like the rate of speed it requires for one to say “I can’t do this anymore” multiplied by the irretrievable time it takes to arrive at that action.

I let myself choke and gag on water. My mouth is gasping once again, letting the ocean into my system. My lungs is ready to collapse and my heart is a shipwreck.

I am destroyed.

There should be a word for this damage but all I have is this paragraph.

I am sinking five feet deep into your memory.

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