In the space between my breaths, absence
echoes louder than touch. I hear
it first in the hollow of my heart–
an emptiness too vast to fill.
There, the longing lingers,
deafening yet intoxicating,
fleeting yet persistent.
It eats at me–
a gnawing hunger,
aching like a slow burn. clinging to me in
the silence, clawing through the layers of my chest.
A relentless weight I can’t shake, slowly consuming
all the space I have left.
Longing soon becomes a ghost of yearning– once benign,
now a presence that haunts every thought.
A distraction woven from the emptiness.
I try to fill the void,
to find something that will ease my hunger,
but my hands always return empty. Each
exhale, a whisper unheard,
each inhale, a hope unfulfilled.
Caught in the gap between what is, and what could be.
The silence grows louder,
the absence spreads,
until it has filled every corner of my being,
devouring all that I was.