Empty, Time, Love

Empty.

Empty is the walls of that old, abandoned house,

that we swore would soon be ours.

Time.

Time was all we needed,

to mend our broken hearts.

Love.

Love is what we had,

what pulsed through our veins each day.

But Time is running out,

And Love's not real.

Leaving the Empty in my heart.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading!

Reviews

[Chris]

This one leads right into my own thoughts:

Seems we acquiesce into our own usage or lack thereof of the linearity of the moments we call "time's passage" toward our own ends. And we don't ever choose whom we Love, just whom we like - so Love is all too very, very real. And lastly, we get so lost in our own efforts of "controlling" what life and happenstance brings to our existence that we lack the sheer "heart" to willfully continue so many, many "paths".

Across a life's time of so many cris-crossings I miss so many now - that so few ...so very, very few... will ever miss me.

and that is how the "Tontines" play out.

[Hickory Dickory]

Thank you so much

[ProphetsMother]

Nothing ever goes as planned and I think that's part of what love really means. The good part is that you cannot unlove someone so the love never really dies. I love your work don't stop

[Hickory Dickory]

Thank you so much