When I entered this hole, it was filled with dust upon paintings that had never been looked at or touched in years, dated back to a time that I didn’t even know existed. Dust particles floating in the air. You can feel your lungs filling up, not being able to breathe. It was my turn to weep. To fill the envy and the sorrows, it filled and concave beneath my chest that I breathed in. The silence I buried deep beneath my skin was your voice so in tuned, you had every woman’s eyes gazing upon your body. You like the ones who couldn’t speak. Rather your lust, your tongue slither into a disease you repeated. I got trapped in your cycle you endured. You liked how I bagged and gave no mercy but forgave in seconds upon your departure. The death upon the slaves you like to be seen with. cost me my peace, the chemical imbalance inside of my brain. It goes numb every time I hear her name. Scars that must heal remain always at bleed with my blood you use as your ink.