I wish I was upset —
screaming, shouting,
shaking with rage
coursing through my body.

That my chest was heaving,
my heart raising.

I wish I was tearing and tearing the house,
trashing everything,
ready to burn it all to ashes.

That you were in front of me,
so I could just finally unleash my demons.

But — there is nothing.

And don't get happy or relieved about that.

You should know that this is much worse.

That I no longer care.
That my heart is empty for you.
That you are not even worth it —
Not the tears,
not the anger,
not even the sadness.

Now,
you are nothing.