Emptiness Poetry Novels & Stories

"Yeah, honey. I'm wiped, but I'm so happy I get to see you." I simply replied, "Okay." Since he'd "left for work," I hadn't set foot in the place we shared. I stayed at my own apartment because the condo felt contaminated by him. … That night, he came home to the condo buzzing with energy, only to realize I wasn't there. He sounded wounded over the phone. "Honey, why weren't you here to greet me? Do you know how sad it feels to come home to an empty place? Come on, make it up to me."

Somewhere in a grove no one could map, a book lay open on a flat stone its pages blank save for a single line, written not in ink, but pressed with intention: “Here is where we did not speak and still, the world listened.” A wind turned the page. Then left it open for the next to come.

The stars twinkled overhead, a myriad of distant lights suspended in the darkness, but their brilliance did little to pierce the veil of emptiness that enveloped me. I wasn't sad, not in the conventional sense at least, but neither was I happy. Instead, I was consumed by a profound sense of emptiness, a void that seemed to stretch on endlessly within the depths of my soul. It was a feeling that defied explanation, a gnawing sense of disconnection from the world around me.

A glow of wisdom, of knowledge and old A tale of a world, where myths unfold In cities of wonder, where dreams are made The streets whisper stories, of a world yet unafraid A world of possibility, of hope and desire Where hearts beat strong, and love sets the fire In the silence of night, where darkness reigns A light flickers softly, a beacon that remains A light of guidance, of hope and peace A shining star, that the heart can release In the depths of the soul, where emotions reside A voice whispers softly, a gentle, loving tide A tide of compassion, of empathy and kindness true A heart that beats strongly, with a love that shines through In the realm of eternity, where time stands still A

It was rare that I had a moment of quiet without anyone demanding my attention, but right now, it was just me, the water, and the soothing sound of its flow. After I finished, I slipped into my pyjamas and fell into my bed, my body sinking into the soft mattress. As I pulled the covers up to my chin, my head nestled into the pillow, I released a deep sigh of contentment. I was finally able to take a deep breath, relax, and unwind from the busy day. I closed my eyes and let myself drift away into a dreamless sleep. …….

Prologue Emptiness— the feeling of missing something like a deep hole was dug down inside your heart. It will slowly push you to complete oblivion, reeling by morbid darkness that will consume you until all you have left is your own voice to be able to call somebody for help. But is someone willing to take the risk? To let themselves sink by my caged emotions? Imprisoned by an unreal pain that I craved more than a pointless knife piercing me down endlessly. Is someone willing to save me from the monster of my own abnormality?

I just mumble back to him. I'm not sure how long after he left I woke up fully, but the side he sleeps in is cold, so he must have left hours ago. Turning, I see the paper on the bed. I smile and reach for it. Turning it over, my eyes widen. The sketch shows a person with the centre of their body hollowed out and empty. There's no longer a heart there. I read the poem. Hollowed out Empty within Nothing lingers Nothing lives Cold spreads quickly

The nexus’s heartbeat was silent, replaced by a low, hollow drone that seemed to echo from within Jessica herself, her hollowness vibrating in response. The path ended abruptly, opening into a boundless expanse, not a chamber but a nothingness, the black star a gaping maw at its center. No loom stood, only a swirling vortex of shadow, its threads invisible yet palpable, weaving a tapestry that wasn’t seen but felt—a crushing emptiness that stripped away hope, memory, love. The drone became a voice, not a chorus but a singular, hollow tone: “Jessica, heart of the nexus, enter the void and be unmade.”

🌟 Breathing life into Part 57—the chapter where silence becomes something Yam begins to map. Inspired by Franc’s completed canvas and the quiet power of gold, Yam turns to poetry. Not just as expression, but excavation. Each poem traces a moment when silence broke into something new—messy, beautiful, real. These aren’t just verses. They’re cartography. Yam sat with five blank pages. Each one titled only by memory. – “The first time he didn’t leave.”

Edwin got so tired of me asking him to work that he just started hanging out and playing cards while supposedly working. His paycheck? It was exactly 1,200 dollars, the same amount I gave his mom for her expenses. Hence, she could not help Mandy anymore. Mandy was fed up. Her husband was a gambler and offered no help at all, and she was expecting another baby. They really needed the extra 1,050 dollars each month, and without it, they were struggling. When her husband did not win any money, he would take it out on her.