Madelyn Miyares, Staff Writer

There’s a hole in my chest where my heart used to be.

There’s a pain in my throat where my voice used to be.


Instead of

Feeling the feelings

I used to


I feel



nothing but the cold, mourning air.

And the colder it gets

The less

I feel.


There is apathy in my throat where the pain used to be.

There are pieces in my chest where the whole used to be.