The background music cuts out,
And absences invade.
Gaps squeeze their way between conversations,
And weak sentences melt into air.
The hollowness is boisterous,
Atmosphere bullied out.

Another empty space usurps the spot
Your hand had in mine.
My fingertips regress back to my palm.

“Put the music back on!”
Is an unspoken surrender.


Any and all feedback is really useful and will be listened to!


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