Afterwards
It is the emptiness,
the nothingness,
the in-between.
Is it broken?
Is it maimed?
Can it even feel pain?
It is hollow and damp
and though it speaks very little
when they are here,
it swallows the silence
engulfing it in a dark loneliness.
It does not think,
nor feel,
though it hurts all the same.
It sits back,
an animal upon its haunches,
waiting for them to leave.
Then it returns
empty as it was before.
Murmurs;
it remains.
