Well damn,

It's ironic how hollow I am
because I swear six months ago
I had the universe inside of me,
but I went and cried the rivers
in my bones dry.
The volcanoes in my chest erupted
when you left and lava flooded my body,
hardened until I stopped sleeping.
I had stars in my lungs
but I burned them all out with
cigarettes I was smoking to get
your name out of my throat.
The flowers growing at the bottom
of my stomach are dead,
apparently you can't water roses with vodka.
I had the sky in my veins
but its been pretty stormy since
I ripped them open.
I had planets on the tip of my tongue,
but the debris from shattered remains
have been crashing into them.
I was everything.
And then I met you and I realized I was nothing.
I'm still nothing.