It’s the absence that hurts more than anything present.
Pervading everything with the lack thereof.
I’ve been stripped of sadness by my antidepressant.
And with it, I’ve been stripped of love.

It’s in the unrequited gaze on the subway train.
Not breaking up that fight I witness on the street.
I’ve come to getting used to standing unclad in the rain.
And even with a winter coat on, I’m impervious to heat.

What comes after erosion, after all is bust?
And the caves are no more, only sky above?
Will my ashes be carried by a gust?
Into the emptiness that we know not of?

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