I have a hunger to fill myself with emptiness
To soothe my pain and cover my scars
with the dark silken ink of yearning
When the weight of hollow is too much to bear
the lingering embrace of parchment and quill
smooth as silk whispers softly
Painting the withered parts of me in colours you cannot see
and I am suddenly flowering
like a spring blossom in the darkness of winter
or flying free like a bird from a burning tree
But my hunger always finds me
between the darkness and the light
twisting the blade carving your name upon the night
and I fall gently back into the soft winds of yearning
© Ann Bagnall

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