Burning. out.

Heaving, croaking, gasping,

sweat pours down my face,

legs carry me to a pain

that masks the ache in my chest.


I can’t make you love me by Bon Iver

makes me a shriveled mess,

his voice is a mellow torch

that burns my face salty.


All I want to do is melt

in the burning fire,

and scream until I lose

sensation in my throat,


until I am empty





and can be filled


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