Emptiness

Emptiness short poem

Photo by Eddi van W.

Saturday evenings reek of
stale words, aching bones and a
running out of things to feel

dressed in a darkness
where your silence meets mine
and no sound seeps in through the
fine crisscross weave of the blanket
soggy with a blunt cold
emptiness

the fluorescent lit room
eats its way into our marrow
like stark public restrooms in winter
groaning under the weight of frozen flesh
and warm innards

and we sit evertangled
like earphones in the back pocket
and watch the evening drip slowly past

heavy with all that we have to say
and all that floats across the television screen
in a frenzy of indistinguishable colours
of the things known
and of the
things unknown
and the sighs in between
where I’ll be waiting with a clockwork heart
and neon eyes

Search for me there.
Give it a try.

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Snigdhadip Roy

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It's always tough to describe oneself. So let one know me slowly but steadily.
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1 Comment on "Emptiness"

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Gabriella Gangala
Member

Nice ending. It sounds daring yet inviting/ encouraging.

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