Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
famished and parched

It longs for satisfaction

fed on words to fill up an empty stomach

poured letters into my cup

however, no matter how much I consume, only led to further desire

am I forever indebted?

indebted to interminable hunger
I wrote this during a sad time when I turned to reading and writing to heal. But no matter how much I consumed or created, it couldn't fill the black hole I felt through my whole body. It was as if I was longing for something I couldn't name.
What if this is my deathbed?

Surrounded by collected parchment

From old to new

Smell of burnt tobacco and aged paper

Toxins in the air you breath into

“Yesterday” by the Beatles playing in the background

A woman talking to about her husbands affair with the store owner

Reading poetry on the old wooden floor
I wrote this poem during a period of sadness. It’s about the warm comfort I found in a bookstore. The mix scent of paper and tobacco was like a huge hug to the soul. The background chatter and music was very soothing, and I wished to just sit on the floor and read forever. Thank you for reading.

— The End —