The Hole

Last night was strange for me. After working all day I realized that I had very little contact with anyone that I truly loved; my family and friends. It's a strange twist of knowing that they are there and yet feeling alone. Other things also inspired this poem, though, things I can't being to explain, hence why I write them in poetry.

The Hole

I don't know how to explain it,

The hole inside my chest.

It rests just below my heart

And in between my breasts.

Dead center.

I can feel it stealing air

From my lungs and lips. 

It makes it hard to breath.

It makes it hard to live.

I don't think I can explain it,

How it leaves me all-consumed

In thoughts of how I never had

Someone that I loved and loved me too.

Not once.

I can't fight it either,

When night comes after day.

It makes it hard to sleep.

It makes it hard to lay.

I don't think I can wait,

For prince charming or his like.

I used to think I could;

To wait and long and fight.

For him.

But now I'm not so sure

That it's even true.

It makes it hard to believe.

It makes it hard to believe in you.

I don't think I can let go,

Even though I just claimed I would.

I know, perhaps, you'll canter in one day

Sweep me off my feet because you could.

Like Cinderella.

And the hole would fill

And I'd have kisses and you.

It makes it hard to wait.

But, in the end, I suppose, it makes true love true.