Poetry, Short Poem, Thoughtful

void-less

When our lips met,
Instead of euphoria
I felt more empty than ever conceivable.
A hollowed-out husk,
my mind wanders
as my body remains in play.
Detached as you conquer and caress,
I cannot remember when I truly felt OK.

Passion has become diluted, estrange
as you demand for more.
My misery is overcome by your pleasure;
a void-less wanderer who
circles back to purgatory
as your eager cheers are muffled
by my tears.

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