Emptiness Poetry Novels & Stories

Now silence fills the space where words once lived. A space waits ahead, untouched. Nothing fills it yet. We write with the same hand, side by side.

We all notice everything right now. No one says anything. There’s nothing left to say. I step past them quietly and push the door open. The night air hits me instantly. Cooling and grounding. I inhale deeply, letting it fill my lungs, steadying myself. The sky stretches wide above the clearing, dark and endless, the stars scattered across it like distant fire. And the moon, gone. Not a trace of it. Just emptiness, a hollow space where it should be. The new moon. Tomorrow or rather....

At the dog kennel. When Whitney arrived, Summer was curled up in a ball inside a cage, and she was almost dying. Outside the cage were three massive pit bulls staring at her. They had been starved for a long time, and they bore their sharp teeth, drooling at their mouths while circling the cage in frustration. Summer had suffered a breakdown while inside the cage, and it had been two days and nights since she last ate or drank. In addition to that, the mental and emotional stress had taken a toll on her.

It was not emptiness. Because emptiness still assumes something has been removed. Emma felt that truth arrive without sound, without transition, without even the faintest suggestion of becoming. What remained after everything no longer required separation was not a void waiting to be filled. It was not absence waiting to be named. It was continuation without contrast. Ethan’s voice came slowly, almost uncertain. “…So this is it?” Emma didn’t answer immediately. Because “it” had already stopped being a useful word.

Inside the library, silence no longer felt like rest, but like suspension, and when she sat down with a book she did not intend to read, she found herself pausing repeatedly without awareness of why she was pausing, as though her attention was waiting for something that no longer existed in the room but had not yet been removed from her expectation of it. Days passed in a rhythm that pretended to be unchanged, yet Meera began to recognize that absence does not behave like emptiness, because emptiness suggests lack, whereas this felt more like presence that had been removed from visibility but not from influence, and she started noticing how often she turned toward spaces without realizing sh

¶¶ In out-of-the-way places of the heart, Where your thoughts never think to wander, This beginning has been quietly forming, Waiting until you were ready to emerge. For a long time it has watched your desire, Feeling the emptiness growing inside you, Noticing how you willed yourself on, Still unable to leave what you had outgrown. It watched you play with the seduction of safety And the gray promises that sameness whispered, Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,

But, he still agrees apathetically, “Okay…” After that, they both keep they dive into silence and stare blankly at the view in front of them, although there’s really nothing worth seeing. The place they’re at right now is merely the in between, the middle path separating the realms. Nonetheless, everything has long lost their beauty. Buildings’ crumbled and even dreams got purged by hellish fire. Now, it’s only left with its bleak sky and ghostly silence. Neither joy nor choice exist in this middle path. Nothing stays, except time, the only component worth envy because it is merely an illusion in this place. It gives you eternity. An eternity of imprisonment.

The Whisper Before Creation Before the first dawn of the new world, before the first star dared to shine, there was only the hush of anticipation— the quiet inhale the universe takes before becoming real. And in that breath, a whisper. Not a word. Not yet. Just a pulse. A rhythm older than sound, gentler than light, and stronger than time. The Flow was waiting to wake again. --- The Shape of Nothing There was no sky. No space. No edge to stand upon.

Together. And now, all we have left is this: guilt and emptiness. And in this emptiness, I drown. A little more each day. And I know that no one will come to save me. End

Silence. Not the kind I had gotten used to. Not the quiet of the street, or the pause inside the café. This was something deeper. Something absolute. No background noise. No distant movement. No life. Just. Nothing. And yet. It wasn’t empty. I stood still, letting my eyes adjust. The space around me stretched out, but not like a room. There were no walls. No ceiling. No floor I could clearly define. Just lines. Thin. Faint.