empty

Empty

Slightly burnt, with crusts a little too thick. 

The last of the butter, evenly spread.

A little sweeter, perhaps? Too bland otherwise. 

Is there anything left in the cupboard? 

Jam, marmite, lemoncurd?

Maybe the marmite. 

Some will hate but others will love. 

They’ll say the taste is too strong. 

Lingers. 

They’ll have their opinions. They’ll say. 

But still they will take, despite their talk. 

And when there’s nothing left, they’ll move onto the next,

leaving nothing but a few crumbs and an empty shelf. 

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Numb

It no longer mattered where the pain was coming from or who was providing it, for nothing was felt anymore. A great wave of numbness spread, sweeping so deep the joys were wiped clean along with the pain. All that remained was a great void, a blank slate, where nothing existed.