The Art of Feelings

Empty Heartened Puff

There is a little puff,
A cloud where her heart was.
Surface broken and rough,
The beating… The rhythm… Paused

Darkening with old time,
With long gone energy
Where all rhyme or reason,
Just an accessory.

The beauty and the grace,
Of tending that are near,
Shadowing all left space
Leaving nothing to clear.

The lack of compassion,
The vicious emptiness
There in any fashion,
Leaving feelings at best.

Questioning her own heart,
For the sake of others,
Only to stop the hurt
Of her and another.

Special thanks to Steffen for making me realize how empty I had truly become.


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