I say I am hurt. You say nothing.
I say my head is too heavy to lift from the pillow. You look away.
I say every part of me hurts. You rise, calm, silent and drift from the room.
I drag myself to where you are, press your fingers to my exposed bones, show you my desecrated heart.
But all you have – the whir and click of your brain, the bellow wheeze in your lungs – can only be for you.
For me, there is only a void.