I had no arms to remove you, no voice to tell them to stop.
But I had a door, and I let hope in for you.
Dents line my walls, as the movers carried out my memories:
The clothes, the bed, the studded belts, the toys they took
until I am nothing but a shell.
I only have that picture, carved into my empty closet,
a picture of you leaving.The hope took you away.
I am nothing but bad memories. Don’t come back.