The Space that Should be Filled With You

when you left... again. It tore me open, wrecked my soul, demolished my faith in love, but at least I coerced a couple words out of my pain. `

The space that should be filled by you is bigger than it is. The bed is not merely half empty. Your side is a desert; vast, scorching, deadly. I cannot walk across it without feeling like fainting. Plagued with a mirage of you. The soft desert wind brings sharp scraps of sand shrapnel into my hazy green eyes as it whispers "I'll never leave again. I need you,". Lies. 

When I took off your ring, I took of my finger. It does not exist. I do not exist. I am insignificant, small, useful only for loving you and pouring my soul into a person that only knows how to take. You take and take and take and take, and somehow I am the monster in my own head every night you are not there to turn off the light. 

I keep them on now. I am afraid of the dark. I am afraid of myself in the dark.