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

empty

 

empty

 

and can be filled

again.

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