She spent her day swinging on a tire swing With fingers playing metal strings Reciting sonnets by Rilke
She never knew to feel
Not even the wind which carried her hair strands to rest on her cheeks Not even the wind which made the grass dance beneath on which she laid her tiny feet Not even the wind in which came a boy named everything
Everything could feel but more fortunately he could make others feel He was destined to kiss empty’s lips and kiss her lips he did.
Empty sat on the swing still numb without feeling a thing But a tear fell from her eyes As she saw her everything turning to ashes, this was her doing The ashes now fused with the wind which refused her to feel everything except one thing
The only thing she felt was empty Empty was me I am empty.