Chasm

I stare at the gaping hole in the ceiling of my room
And I hate that chasm more than anything, not for the emptiness of it
But for what it symbolizes to me, and exactly what it means
For all of the days you promised to repair it, and never did
For all the times you said we’d fix everything, and we didn’t
And that yawning expanse of black space, gutted, with wires and pipes
It stands between us. The chasm is growing; at first it was a little fault,
That grew to a little gulley, that grew to this hideous fissure that
Stands as a barrier between you and I, and neither one of us can leap it.