The ache of these
empty hands,
Fingers pressed against
Calloused palms,
Searching for familiarity.
Skin upon skin,
Finding only,
Empty nerve endings.
You were not there.
Such a vacancy of heart,
No more warmth,
Bleeding from you,
Into my waiting chest.
These hands full of
Nothingness.
Nails dragging along,
The spines of feeling.
I am emptied of trust.
Barbs raking at my being.
A broken thing, broken more.
Breathe to me falsities.
Lungs full of death.
I inhaled.
And the mistress waits.
Conniving futures.
While sucking on the past.
YOU ARE READING
Blank Spaces
PoetryAn emotive journey through the empty places we visit but never want to see. The pain, the heartbreak, trying to see hope in places there may be none. And the secrets, and yes there are always secrets. Can you see them in this dark empty space? So it...
