You.

There's always something real,
Tangible, touched, broken,
There's a real beating heart at the center of this body that you throw away,
Like the garbage every Monday,

There's never been emotion,
Just the cold, white hands,
That grip the blade,
Just the pained, deaf mind,
That craves the shade.

There's more than this in the world,
That I can tell you,
There's roses and birdsong and flowers,
But I can't hear them sing anymore...

The emotion that I once held so close to me beating heart,
Is just an unrecognizable feat.
The life that I once held to you with open arms,
Has now fallen to my feet.

Because you did not take it,
I wanted you to have it,
It was a gift, and now it's broken,
Like the memories I've thrown out,
To make room for you.

Now I'm just an empty shell,
Breathing, but only just,
With an unrequited love and a broken heart,
I breath my last wish,
I take my last kiss, and replay it.

It wasn't anything like yours.