I know
My hands are empty
And have nothing new to
Offer you.
That the last thing you need
Is another boi
Outpouring his heart,
Red to the concrete slab
For you.
Everyone likes you, Lisa said,
Or reminded rather,
And unfortunately
I can see why.
Maybe if I keep telling
Myself that I won't be the
Hundred-thirty-second boi you
Fuck and leave broken It will come true.
But somehow I doubt that also.
Everytime I listen, David tells me
It's not how long you love a person,
It's how.
So, I stay.
Not in hope, expectation.
It's so you will quell my
Screaming heart.
Fill my
Empty chest
For now,
And that
(Hopefully)
I will leave
Before
You seep in
To me.

I know
My hands are empty
And have nothing to
Offer you.

But if I had you,
My hands wouldn't be empty anymore.
 

~Jan Brian Vis