Empty

Quite dark poem that is personal. Explores past pain carried through to the present.

All that is left are thousands of photos
telling the stories
of distant memories,
of a time he longs to return
to. In his dreams he can.


Pictures painted with smiles,
so many smiles and carefree faces
fresh, excited, at thousands
of parties and holidays
and people he can hardly remember.
But he knows he loved them - once -



Pictures of a man he can't
recognise. Drunk, dressed in black tie
and all beaming.


The pictures have gathered years
and years of dust
and there is nothing new,
nothing shiny or hopeful stuck
in his album, just blank
empty
pages he can't fill.


All that is left
are thousands of photos that hide
most of his life under a false
smile covering the emptiness.


Nothing is left.