Empty eyes and empty hands
and echoed, re-echoed
forgotten demands give way
to bleeding eyes and bleeding hands
and reaching
hoping
throwing cans. 

The cupboards emptied,
the shelves bared
our hearts on paper-thin
paper-edge,
papers strewn across the floor,
slamming doors and shouting voices —
we had a choice once. We had a choice.
Tell me this.

Tell me this.

Seeking out, reaching out
feeling for you. Reaching out
and touching you and feeling you
only for you to draw away again. 
Come on. Come on. We had a choice
back then. We had a choice.
Tell me
you remember this.

Now it’s knife-edge
shattered glass
throwing pots and pans. 
A spill of anger. An emptied dam.
Bleeding knuckles. Bleeding hands. 

a woman with blue eyes
empty eyes

Poet’s Notes

I like writing poetry about love because love is an incredibly universal emotion. For this reason, I can rest assured that people will relate to my love poetry. 

If you enjoyed this poem, I think you would also enjoy my poems “You Ruin Me” and “Not Much More.”

Please tell me in the comments what you thought about “Empty Eyes.” 

Thank you for reading!

broken glass

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