I keep hidden
deep
beyond the bottom
of my heart,
in a place
that does not exist,
a singular Nothing,
the presence of which
no longer causes grief
or pain.
No sense of loss,
no suffering remain,
at least that you might notice,
but behind every thought,
between each breath,
I am keenly aware
of this hollowness,
this empty space
which is not there.
2 comments:
"...a singular Nothing, the presence of which..."
you really live
I am instinctually drawn to this nothing and your poem.
xo
erin
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