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Midnight air fades into wisps of memory. I sit behind my keyboard, emotions roiling in damage and my heart drowning in despair. Lights out, fans whirring their soft swishes through the night, all I find of substance drips off my cheeks and splashes my pen in droplets of pain.

Sounds like a poem in the making, doesn’t it? Busy day tomorrow, time schedules pressing, money getting tighter – what do I do? The easy move says to go to bed and sleep off the toxic voices that torture the heart.

What will we name this one, eh? Heartache 1001? Hmm. Bitterness. Not a direction that needs explored this night, or early morning as it may be. What will come will come. Let’s see if I can squeeze something out of my vocabulary.

Awful Holes

I look upon midnight winds,
Seeking answers in the dark.
I stare at words pale and hollow,
Stumbling off their mark.

I hear voices of manic reason
Plead nonsense to my ears.
I feel the weight of harshness
Crush my hard-earned years.

I observe as storms of negativity
Rush to engulf my pride.
I deflect their slings and arrows,
Though deep inside I’ve died.

I smell rankness in love’s hallowed corpse
Yet breathing still, shallow and frail.
I know the cost of holding on –
Daily life stumbles, lost and stale.

I touch my heart with gentle care
To find my truth within.
I sense the loss in its cruel trial,
My humor, my loyalty, my grin.

Tomorrow jogs another day
Past lives and hearts and souls.
Can’t there be some extra love
To fill these awful holes?