Emptiness, deceptive and mean-spirited, steals
memory so that I forget
what was it that I was longing for?
And oh the longing,
emptiness reminds me of it with
a nasty self-pleased sneer saying,
You don’t have it, you don’t have it,
it’s gone and you want it
back. What, whom, where, when?
I cannot recall the thing or place or friend
that I am vacant of, but I can feel the
weight and shape of its loss
inside of me. What a tragedy!
I really, really, REALLY want sushi.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
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