“hell is empty, all the devils are here.”
—william shakespeare (tempest)

there’s a vacancy in me
an empty slot in a puzzle
i’ve tried filling it in
with what i mistook as love
but somehow it always ran out

there’s a hole in me
made of shadows and bitterness
it’s gnawing at my existence
sometimes i catch a glimpse of
a universe where all was right

this is not that universe. 

there’s an emptiness in me
begging to grow, and grow, and grow
and once i’m all eaten up inside
i’ll be a husk of a living being
numb, unfeeling, cold

will you still love me enough to save me then?

Published by Erika Wong