there's a void in my soul
something i pretend to have lost
when it seems i never had it
to start with.

it's long lost kisses
and pretty things,
dark clouds and weeping willows,
giving up
and holding on
whispering branches in winter
and the wailing of the ocean in summer.

and if i reach deep enough into myself
i know that it is love
something lost, nothing gained.
but that doesn't matter, really
when you're a washed up, beat up soul
with nothing left
but a sandpiper to bring you joy.

no love,
but that's not a bad thing.