Barren Hearts and Cold Nights

When I'm alone I'm never really alone. I always have the voices in my head to remind me of how vacant my soul has become. How small my heart is, that a single word from Her fills it with life, and every minute that passes it drains drop by drop. The voices in my head let me know how painful those gaps without you are by squeezing my heart tight. I feel it in my chest, like the tension in a muscle before getting hit because my heart fears pain so much.

Tonight my head is as empty as the millions of words repeated after the equally forsaken souls unleash their freshly emptied bottles of alcohol into their bloodstreams; as if flooding the rivers with venom could stop the pain of breaking veins  from crossing bridges with blades.

I guess even the men in my head have to rest, although I still have yet to rest myself.