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Just Me


T L Taylor

The emptiness is again surrounding me

like a terror filled screaming abyss

it swallows me whole.

And you do not understand, you blame yourself,

and I, sometimes, blame you too.

But I know it is just me, the me that was

before you, the me that will exist after you

the me that will always be.

There was a time when I had convinced myself

that you, your love—the purest and

most beautiful thing I had

ever known or felt—like a parachute would

arrest my descent and allow me to find a safe place

a quiet place to land.

But the gravity of the emptiness was, is,

too great, and filled with too much ugliness

and decay for even you and the constancy

and unrelenting-ness of your love.

It is just me who is falling,

just me who cannot escape

the endless inescapable pull of the nothingness

that is my heart, my soul, my mind.

It is just me that fears for your safety,

just me that believes that if you stay you

will be sucked in with me; for so great

is the evil of the darkness within, so uncaring

so incredibly black and limitless

that it could become just me and you

when it should be just me.

Just me that has no hope, just me.

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