Nothing

It's the phrase that comes around constantly—
This word should be less than few—
Instead this term has become this necessity
It must mean lots of things to you.

I shouldn't bother to ask about the day
Because the answer's always the same.
I need to stop thinking things are astray
The fact I can't remember makes me ashamed.

My memory seems to have turned bad
Because I'm always seeming to forget
That it only makes the both of us sad...
And for that, I feel all this regret.

Is it that my mind has become diseased
And has slowly started to decay?
Is it that my heart too hard has seized
And as a result, has pushed you away?

Or maybe the fact is I don't own your trust—
Maybe a little, but simply not enough.
Or maybe my twisted brain has a ridiculous lust
And makes up all this stuff.

Maybe it's that you fear I'd overreact—
That I'd explode into bits or fall apart.
But I'd prefer to know than to stay intact...
Your avoidance sometimes breaks my heart.

I don't want to be an object of upset.
I don't want to be another source of pain.
I don't want to be your next big regret.
I don't want to be a person you disdain.

But sometimes at night I admit I pray
That maybe tomorrow you'll be more open...
But the next day it again you simply say
And tomorrow night I'll resume my hoping.

I'll lurk in my darkness, deep and alone
Staring into the black until I cry
Warm saline tears make my desires known
But I just don't know what to try.

So to you I have but just one question
Of this word that means less than few:
Could you, perhaps, teach me this lesson
Of why this word means so much to you?

The phrase is a weapon the moment its uttered
This nasty one-word assault—I hate it so!
I wish you would get out of the dangerous clutter
Of your all your nothings—Let them go!

It feels as if a siphon penetrated my soul
And the life within is simply being possessed
Tearing into me another large gaping hole
I'm extremely sorry that I'm so obsessed!

And so for now I turn off these lights
And pray for the hope tomorrow could bring
If only for once you didn't put up a fight.
If only for once it was more than nothing.