Currently

I sit

And think about

This space

Between you and me

In my bed

Imagining you

I clutch

the memories

our last hug

you always pull away first

and create

that space

between you and me

That blood

is always on your hands

I am space-free

refusing to be the one

creating this empty beast.

But yet

I carry its empty chambers

in my heart

because I proclaim it as something

in this poem

Do you even feel its emptiness? 

This void chamber gnaws away

and forms questions

such as

how can there be space between

you and me

if there is

no you and me?