The Heart He Hung

He called it love with trembling hands,

But tied my heart with shifting sands.

Each word he spoke, a sharpened thread,

That stitched me silent, filled with dread.

He dangled care like scraps of light,

Just out of reach, then snuffed the night.

I begged for peace, he fed me fear,

And whispered, “See? I’m always near.”

My body broke in pleading still,

While his grew louder off my will.

And in the mirror, I now see—

I loved a man who emptied me.