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
empty
empty
and can be filled
again.