Empty hearts.

So I tried something new in which I had to write the poetry in exactly a hundred words. Do read it and leave anything you’d like to say in the comments. Instagram handle: @myspirals


“So, what does it feel like to be empty?”

“Everyone is made of poetries,
and to have that inside of you
but no voice or walls for it to echo,
it can be hard to describe,
if not impossible.

It feels like a sinking Titanic,
that is too cold to realize,
that its life is etching away.
It feels like a long stretch of silence,
that screams out stories
and unheard rants.
It feels like a mirage
that you’ve somehow reached,
and you live the illusion.

I don’t know, really.
It feels like a nothing in a something.
Numb. Empty.”


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Previous post: Addictions and lies.
Related post: Hope and caution. 

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18 thoughts on “Empty hearts.

  1. Utsav, I really like your Intro on your about page. Rumi has some interesting things to say. I am going to repost and respond to that quote.

    Let’s talk?
    Yes.

    How was the rainy days of yesteryear? Did you see the splatter as the droplet touched down on the unsuspecting surface?
    I am full of kindness and abilities to socialize,
    No one asked though,
    Making me an empty page of a person in their eyes.
    I think we are, as praptibhuyan29 says all an empty canvas to some extent. Some show it more than others.
    There is always some face value to an appearance. We shake the hand and say hello,
    How do we really feel.

    A friend says he is alright, doing pretty well.
    I know for a fact he has some weird throat sickness that aches 24/7,
    He is stressed about coworkers bullying new hires at his university. He doesn’t show all that though. He reads at open mics tells funny jokes twitches when he laughs and makes all feel welcome.

    We are not cynical in nature I do not think but harbor some need to judge others.

    Are we board reflecting upon our selves unable to keep quiet?

    I hope you are having an amazing day/evening/night. Keep writing and I will visit more of your pages, stories/poems, and posts.

    Sincerely,
    Sam Sutlive.

    P.S.

    I will meet you at that field any day.
    The right types will know this field when they see it.
    The essence of the scent of fresh cut grass and crushed mint will float through the air.
    The quietness of such a field will ring as cathedral(I wasn’t sure if cathedrals had bells so I googled it. It looks like a few do?) bell never has. If we and anyone who finds this field stands long enough upon the ground we will hear the distant dam waters and the gently twisting streams.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. For me Ustav, it went from light to dark in the course of 6 lines. We were open and infinite, whether our voices could echo to us or not, and then the sinking of the Titanic came in. Trapped in the cold, with screaming stories and unheard rants, was it all an illusion? If you meant this to be dark from the onset, then you succeeded. But the first 5 lines beg our attention. Perhaps the title says it all…so what does it feel like to be empty? This is my 1st comment for you…I’m sorry if it seems a bit critical, you have a wonderful vocabulary, vivid and enticing. I will read more.
    Thank you for sharing this post.

    Like

  3. Pingback: Life. – Spirals

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