Emptiness Poetry Novels & Stories

I'm not sure why, but it hurts like hell that he has such an impact on me. It's as if there's nothing there. A gloomy emptiness. A never-ending dark void that eats everything, leaving you with no sensations. Empty. Nothing can quell the emptiness of your hollow spirit, which lurks in the shadows, away from any other human life because it can't stand to pretend that everything is well.

The emptiness within me mirrored the emptiness of the space that surrounded me, a void that seemed to stretch infinitely. Desperation seeped into my veins, like a poison slowly consuming my spirit. I was adrift in a sea of unfulfilled longing, my heart yearning for a connection that remained stubbornly out of reach. With each passing day, my hopelessness grew, entwining itself within the fabric of my being until it became an inseparable part of me.

|Author Pov| ..*..*..*.. As Aurora stepped through her home, a heavy sense of emptiness enveloped her. The air seemed to carry the weight of memories, each corner echoing with the absence of her mother. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of sorrow wandered across the familiar hall. Every nook and cranny held a story, a fragment of a life that seemed to have faded away. It felt like dead as if it lost its shine. She gazed into the vacant space where her mother had lived till now, The door of that room stood ajar, revealing an emptiness that echoed louder.

“Not searching for anything specific, just observing, like exploring a cave you’ve never been in. No expectations about what you’ll find, just curiosity.” “I’m reaching.” “What do you see?” “Darkness, emptiness. The same thing I always see.” “Don’t judge it or label it bad or wrong. Just observe it. What does the darkness feel like?” “It feels cold and vast. Like standing at the edge of something enormous I can’t see.” “Good. Stay with that feeling. Don’t try to fill or fix the emptiness, just be present with it. Let it exist without fighting.” We sat in silence. The sun finished setting, and the moon began to rise. Pale light filtered through the trees, illuminating the clearing.

A voice whispered softly, too softly into his ears and although he didn't hear anything, he could make out what it was: WHEN THE FIRMAMENT BECOMES FILTHY WITH BARBARIC BATS, AND THE GROUND BEGINS TO REVOLT BY SPUTTERING OUT APPETIZING RED LIQUIDS AND ENTICINGLY GALLING SKELETONS, SCAMPER OFF TO YOUR SECURE NESTS, DEAR HUMANS, AND INHALE EVERY FEELING OF PROTECTION. FOR WITHIN THE SPACE OF TWO HEARTBEATS, THE "SANCTUARY" FEELING WILL BE LOST

after everything I went through, still just insults I did my study on those creatures for years, and I can still remember some of my favourite poetry and poems I read as a kid A Last Word by Ernest Dowson Let us go hence: the night is now at hand; The day is overworn, the birds all flown; And we have reaped the crops the gods have sown; Despair and death; deep darkness o'er the land, Broods like an owl; we cannot understand Laughter or tears, for we have only known Surpassing vanity: vain things alone Have driven our perverse and aimless band. Let us go hence, somewhither strange and cold, To Hollow Lands where just men and unjust Find end of labour, where's rest for the old, Freedom to all

Chaos that wandered in the great emptiness, Darkness that followed his every step, Always ever present, Nobody knew how long it did last, Their great scurry across emptiness. Over the great emptiness, And under the great emptiness It leads. The great emptiness, Started to change, Things started to change. Things started to change for better, Chaos stopped, He stood still, Darkness had no other choice but to retreat, Chaos stood alone in the middle of things, That slowly started to take their places,

The First Thought turned toward him. “We can't keep doing this.” The man shook his head. “We have no choice.” “There is always a choice.” “Not anymore.” Emily stepped closer. “Who are you?” Neither figure seemed to hear her. The man looked toward the First Thought. “If you create another, the cycle continues.” “I know.” “And if you don't?” “Everything remains empty.” The man looked at her. “Then perhaps emptiness is better.” The First Thought shook her head. “No.” “Why?”

Each one containing stolen memories. “This is sick,” Maya said, reaching toward a book. “These are people’s lives. Their experiences. Their identities.” “Don’t touch them,” a voice said from the shadows. “They’re quite fragile. Touching them could shatter the memories permanently.” A figure emerged. Humanoid but wrong. Face constantly shifting between different people. Body flickering between forms. As if unable to settle on a single identity. “Who are you?” Celeste demanded. “I am everyone. I am no one. I am Emptiness, and I am collecting what should never have been shared.” The figure gestured to the library. “Memories of cooperation. Of trust. Of building together. All poisonous lies that

There are echoes of laughter that surround the solitude, and the soft sighs that float in the imagination. Longing sharpens the distance. Strangely, it also brings warmth, a reminder that the feeling is real. It exists even in separation, and that's what makes it both suffocating and life-giving. Emory was hit without warning. She had never expected longing to weave beauty and emptiness together so seamlessly. She was entranced by the sweetness of this newfound feeling, but completely unprepared for the emptiness that suddenly engulfed her heart, ready to consume her in an exhausting wait.