I pour
from an empty cup
into an empty space
that can’t… no…
doesn’t care to
hold it.
”never chase”
you laugh over a beer
unsolicited advice
from a man who
hasn’t tended garden for
6… long… months.
”it’s winter” you say
to your own defense
always playing zone
and never in it
and I wonder,
Where is the quarterback?
While I long for the life back
a different era where
sunshine was plenty
and smiles didn’t have to be bought
by playing a high priced part
with only pennies to work with
If you read this
Well I can already feel the recoil
Like firing a 40 caliber gun
with 80 year old arms.
But this is not about you.
And if you are not happy
with the reflection you see
within the silver linings
of these words
maybe you should try
to take up the space here
that’s still … so… empty.
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
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