In a Vaccum

Tap the hole, the concrete, see it expand,
spider veins and cracking wise,
so watered down over time.
She left you here for good, be thankful you can still crawl,
walls crumble around; and the wind whips your torso into the incoming squall.
Your torrential mist, tight fisted until the bitter end– and limbs dangling at the edge.
The imminent rush, dour exchange and the leftovers, residual to what’s in my head.
I’ll escape with my life and you can keep what’s left.