No Feeling

Sick is only a word, I've used to only collect, depressed dust, my small remnants, of shattered unholiness, and broken bones, I slip through each crack, falling, falling past. Sliding ever easier through this void-less life. I cannot feel what feelings are, I cannot touch lust lips with my own, I cannot smell divine forbidden fruit, for my senses have been, and shall remain as numb, as they were when you left. Ripped, and battered, this heart beats ever lightly, with the thoughts of love, never thinking nor questioning pain, for love knows of pains, as pain is that of love. The lines vanish, my pain becomes love, but who am I, If I am not pained? I can't love.......I shall from here out remain solemnly broken, and left with the dust of my rebirthed heart.