Empty (Poem)

(Another poem for you all to read. I’ve got some more stuff to share with you all—I plan to bring back another Cleaning Out the Attic series on the blog. Until then, enjoy.)

EMPTY

Have you ever stared at an object while
-it’s raining?
Watched the drops slide down
As if they were tears
And suddenly
You felt like it was you
I have sat
And watched
As drops rested on the glass
Of the windshield
Slowly gathering
Before gradually making their way to
-the bottom
I had nothing left in me to cry
I just didn’t feel like it
But somehow
I watched the glass
And got the sense that the drops
-represented
All the tears that wouldn’t come out of
-me

Part of me wanted to ask somebody this
But I didn’t want them to think that
-something was wrong with me
I heard a voice ask,
“If a person asked you that,
Wouldn’t you think something was
-wrong?”
To which I had to concur

But still
It would be nice to tell someone this
You can’t say things like that out loud
-though
So
I decided I’d put it in a poem

Well
I guess I’ll ask you then

Have you ever
Been so sad
And cried so much
Until you felt as though
You had nothing left?
Have you ever watched the rain fall
Saw it hit the glass
And got the feeling
That the sky was crying
For you?

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