Tang Clang Blitches

Empty is simple.

To have nothing, to be nothing.

I once thought of you

and burned a life not worth living.

Now I try to fill a space,

an entire life,with beautiful things

and imaginative people.

I have jars full of compliments

and vases filled with flowers.

You write to me, with profound longing,

and yet I feel nothing.

You speak of love lost

and belief in the unexpected.

I read your letters and

forget who sent them.

Once we were inseperable,

as a tree to the earth,

roots twisted and branches long.

It only took words

to amputate all that growth.

As a stump,

I am only a resting place

for the weary.

Count my rings

and tell me,

how long have I left?