Flat Spots

byoregon_gal©

There is flat spot
Where the hole use to be
Where the pain would bubble up
Like lava
Oozing its hot vomit
Scorching its way
Down to my feet

There is a dull pain
Where the edges of you
Ripped me open
With lies

There’s an angle
My heart takes
To dodge the memories
That rise up

There is, for practical purpose,
A dead zone
circling around
Landing in places that
I forgot
You had
Owned

Theres a scab
Where you were
Not hurting but not forgetting
And it lives
Taking space
Where you are not

And filed away
All the spots and scabs,
                 zones, and angles
Add up
Too heavy to carry
Too tired to care
And I walk to my grave
Missing a sweet piece of me
once alive
foolishly given
Away to you

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