Right in the center of my ribs. That is where I feel it. The empty pit of despair that was left when you ripped out the hope. Some night it becomes a black hole, sucking joy and smiles away. This sucking makes my shoulders  curve, and my ribs come closer their attempts to fill the hole. Other days it’s in the stomach. The feeling you get as you peak on a roller coaster, the empty jittery feeling. Like someone took something from your gut. You did; you took away the butterflies. You took away their sun and the wind on their wings. And left them there to die. I feel invisible fists of mocking smiles each time I think of you. The hope I once felt now a hit to the face, laughing at my stupidity. Not only was I emotionally hurt. Some days, some nights, it becomes physical.