Homesick for these faces with nothing behind them,
Missing the ones who never spoke a word.
Longing for the people with nothing to their souls,
And wanting to embrace those without being.
Hungry for the touch of those without feeling,
And wishing to be loved by those with no hearts.
Holding out my arms to those who won't come,
And winking at those without eyes to see.
I spend my time walking dirt paths to nowhere,
Dancing to music from a broken radio.
I speak to those who choose not to hear,
And spill my soul to those I cannot trust.
Author notes
Ok, this was a weird thing for me. I went to a journal site this evening to check in on some friends, and on the front intro page they list recent journal entries with the first sentence or two under the title. The first line of this poem was the first line of someone's post. I don't know them and actually didn't read the entry. But for some reason, that first line sparked something in me, and this little nothing was born. 
Written April 13th, 2005
In a list
What did you think
Comments
-
Beautiful
Excellent poem, I always look forward to reading your work because all of it is written so well, keep up the great work, I absolutely love this poem! -
WOW Auntie Erin!!! This poem is awesome considering the inspiration for it!!! Great job!!! I love it!!!
Hugs,
Beth -
You took one line and made an incredibly vivid poem. I love one liners. They can at times be such an inspiration. This is very strange, but it seems to have so much substance to it, and is another to your credit, my sister. Hugs, Patricia
-
Great Work
"Little nothing?" Nah, it was a really good poem. I really like it.
Adding your comment:
2 old applause
