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Empty Story

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Are these just
blank words
ringing through the
deep emptiness
in your eyes?

Or are they things
of substance
that penetrate
your mind?

If minutes were words
and seconds my voice
every hour would be
a story.

But the silence—
the vast, colorless silence—
paints the future for you.

And words fall through
your sight in a shroud
of silence.
So you can’t hear them.

And words speak to you
from behind the silence.
As they fall,
they join the story
and altogether
we end.





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