Tuesday, February 8, 2011


Left with a hallow shell.
Features like carved windows
Which lack drapes
Expose the unfulfilled.

Internal space scooped out,
Evacuated for your amusement.
Only illuminated when you
Choose to light the wick.

My expression does not exist
Until you decide what you
Wish to see written there,
Etched by your hand.

All I feel is voluminous void
You’ve given me no tears to cry.
So I sit with a frozen crooked grin,
Like a suicidal jack o lantern.

Copyright © 2011 Natasha Guy

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