Hollow Ground

My words were sharp, each one a stone,

I hurled them hard, until you groaned.

I saw your face, your spirit flown,

and knew that battle, I had owned.

A victory, so cold and bare,

a silent space, a vacant stare.

No celebration, no shared air,

just bitter triumph, everywhere.

The taste of winning, a dry grit,

the broken thing that wouldn't knit.

I stood there, having done my bit,

and knew the cost, too late for it.

That quiet, after the loud, harsh sound,

left only rubble on the hollow ground.