Empty

There’s so much emptiness

that I’m engulfed by it

sitting on a bench 

that would seat three,

maybe four,

I sit in the middle 

to make it feel full

but it shouts out

about the emptiness 

surrounding me.

Then there’s the chairs

and the table

all empty.

And where are the words,

my words

the ones in my head

that should be seeking paper

and pouring out quick as coffee

in a crowded cafe.

They used to be there

but now,

like the cafe,

my head is empty.

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