Memoirs Of A Teenage Heart

The Hollow Of My Heart

The Hollow Of My Heart

The hollow of my heart

is not filled with blood,

or the ebony ink

that kisses my fingertips.

It is an open maw

that shows only darkness,

and mourns the passing

of light that graces my lips.

It is a black hole

that consumes emotions

and corrupts them from within,

and it is crying. It is crying.

The hollow of my heart

is empty, and full - so full -

of everything I’ve lost.

Too many memories,

too many moments,

too much

        too much

           too much.

There is sunlight in my chest,

and my breath is the fluttering of birds.

There’s springtime words

on the tip of my tongue,

and a flowering garden

of poetry beneath my fingers.

But there’s still that hollow within my heart

that echos, and mourns, and cries.

~*~

I guess that makes sense, though.

Even the sun has sun-spots

that slowly erupt through its core.