Small Dish,
Short tines,
Weaving metal vines,
The doubt that fill my mind.

Waiting,
Wondering,
If you will ever see?
Or are you just as blind as me?

I fill the void,
With sense-less food,
Mocking my brooding,
Overly self-centered mood.

My heart it aches,
But it will not break,
Because you took it,
And left a gaping whole.