I ate words for dinner

When my stomach grumbles,

I grab my pen and let the

emptiness tremble through me.

The page will be full

and my thoughts will be pregnant.

And my soul will be consoled

with the dreams I write

and weave

as my blanket

to keep me warm

in the abyss we know as night.


Poem No. 2 for this week’s poetry theme, “on summer I toil, on summer, I dream.”

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