Empty Space
Finding yourself in the spaces in between
What do you call it, that time in between?
That period that feels simply of empty space
The strange unknowing of what comes next
Lingering on the ends of frayed heart strings
Collecting the pieces that were shattered from someone who never deserved to handle it in the first place
Stamp “Fragile” on my heart
Cocoon it in bubble wrap
Put it in a box stuffed with packing peanuts
Hide it for safekeeping.
Tuck it away
Back in that empty space
That dark corner
A quiet place
But not a place of sorrow, instead a place of healing
An empty space not of a saddened soul
No
An empty space of peace and growth
A room for colorful activities
A little nook to read
A studio to paint the hues of a patchwork soul
An empty space
An empty space of opportunity
Where the ability to create love exists in the seams of a broken heart
Like a child playing hide and seek
Not hiding out of fear but instead
Hoping, giggling, smiling
Yearning for the moment you find her
Stowed away in the empty space
The empty space that is so juxtaposed in a place so full of life and living
Of wine nights with girlfriends
And Saturday morning markets
In the crackles of a used vinyl
Count backwards from 10 we used to say
Covering our eyes, swearing not to peek
Ready or not, here we come
Ready to find ourselves
Hiding somewhere, anywhere, everywhere in that empty space
About the Creator
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Off the Book
It ended like every other stupid idea. Badly, and alone. I’m researching digital confession ethics, he said. A tech ethicist. He gestured at floating data I couldn’t see then pulled out a physical notebook. Actual paper, fountain pen. He held it up like he was showing me scripture.
By Nicky Frankly5 days ago in Fiction
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