Your eyes used to shine with the stars,

Like constellations in the night.

Now they flicker with uncertainty,

Dimness…

Like a firefly slowly dying,

Losing its spark.

 

What used to be, isn’t.

 

Your arms used to be clean,

Like a blank canvas.

Now they’re dotted with pinpricks,

Hollowness…

Like tunnels made by an earthworm,

Looking for a permanent home.

 

What used to be, isn’t.

 

Your voice used to ring with the angels,

Like Niagara Falls on a blissful morning.

Now it’s solemn with lost hope,

Emptiness…

Like the empty bottle of a dehydrated infant,

Yearning for thirst.

 

What used to be, isn’t.

What would be, won’t.

What should be, will never.