An emptiness

Because alone is not lonely

What if it’s not made for me?

Or I for it?

 

Perpetual calls that there is something missing

something spoilt within me

an emptiness

A self-sabotaging hardness

the walls built high 

and thick and deep

There are no walls

nothing rotten

nothing hard

no stench of heartbreak

no stalemate

no sabotage

 

It’s just not made for me

Or I for it

Reviews

[1809 Black Plague Decem..]

Hello, Wallflorist, love the prose-poem,
my understandment is that when calls are "perpetual"
the person really doesn't care/ love one anymore.
It can be a reality that sustains, unless you put yourself out there,
but you must feel comfortable with yourself,
great write! ----Maynard

[emmajoygreen]

No reasons for having likes or dislikes. No reasons for having emotions. No reason for explaining self, if free to do so. Methinks there could be strong and personal reasons for this poem.. or perhaps a very fine imagination. Enigmatic.