She wanted to bare her essence, her soul
Embracing her truth before setting it free into the world
Cauterizing the cuts those words caused by her clutching them so desperately tight
Releasing them would allow so much healing to enter
Except she just couldn’t do it. She screamed as she hugged them tighter
The idea of giving up her truth and being naked, of needing to find a new truth
She would be an open window, an empty container, a person without value, a woman without …
He was sick of feeling empty inside
Only self-pity seemed to fill the void, and he knew that wasn’t healthy
Looking out over the storm-tossed ocean waves, he wondered what to do
Love felt so far away, somewhere out there past the emotional gray horizon
Of course, even if he got out there it might not help
Walking away from the water, he tried to convince himself that being full wouldn’t feel all that great
Making food always made him feel both happy and sad.
Every morsel that left his kitchen was a love note to those who ordered it.
A loving response was an empty plate that came back, ready to be cleaned for a new missive.
Leaving food on the plate meant rejection and left him wondering what went wrong.
Cold permeated the air as it dripped through the walls.
His teeth chattered comically, so he put on a third sweatshirt.
It couldn’t get more miserable. could it?
Looking at the water pipes overhead, yes, it could.
Leaving his basement, he contemplated the empty fireplace.
Yeah, maybe he didn’t need the couch anymore.
Every word he wrote on the paper was a bucket full of holes
Making them equally as worthless at holding anything inside
Perhaps he should just give up now and save the time and effort
Though it did make the lifting of each one easier in its own way
Yes, maybe he would haul of them into place now since it was easy and spackle it all together during rewrites
Focusing on the food was what gave him pleasure
Every morsel perfectly prepared and consummately seasoned
At the moment he could think of nothing better existing in the universe
So why was his stomach still an echo chamber of empty rumbles?
The fact the meal in question was just an old magazine spread and he had no money
Become part of a brigade
Uplift everyone and pass them on
Checking to make sure they are full as they leave your care
Keeping them moving and helping them put out their fires along the way
Everyone just has to do a little to have a large impact
Then we can assist each other when we are empty by filling each other back up
Evaluating his writing decisions
Dan sat there with his red pen and whisky bottle
It was too long before both were empty
That was when the flames in the fireplace grew larger
Vehicle for fluids is raised for another toast
Enables waking dreams as you stumble being possessed
Sometimes you can host a multitude of different spirits simultaneously
Such as wine, beer, and hard liquors
Enough visitors that you reach your max occupancy limit, and you’re forced outside your body
Leaving you empty and full of yourself at the same time
Being empty inside
Left her searching for something to fill her up
Anything she tried to stick in ran right back out
Her only word she used to describe it was…
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
AUTHOR
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Never Short On Words 