Reaching

You are  in a constant state of reaching.

There is a cavity inside that you ignore the way you ignore junk mail;

As if ignoring the hollow will make it slither down and find a new home at the bottom of the drawer;

It’s never easy to fill something that likes being empty.

It’s never easy to feel something that likes being empty.

When ignoring it no longer works,

you find yourself pondering who gave this to you.

It’s a gift you never asked for because you knew you couldn’t care for it properly;

If you could stamp the top “RETURN TO SENDER” and send it right to

Your father, or your lover, or your priest, or your own mind, I know you would.

But since you don’t, you reach instead.

What do you reach for to fill you?

A bottle, a man, a pill, a snack?

After pouring all you can afford to pour within yourself,

How long is it before you want more?

Using men as appetite suppressants,

Pills as therapists,

Snacks as distraction.

Bottles to quench a thirst but it only seems to make your throat dryer, right?  

So, what will you reach for next?