Empty Yearning

i think god left a hollow inside me
like an abandoned room
He never planned to return to.
not a test.
not a lesson.
just an empty space
i’m forced to live with.

i walk around with this ache
like it’s a second spine—
always there, always stiff,
always reminding me
that something in me
was never completed.

people talk about love
like it’s a season that arrives,
like it circles back eventually.
but i feel like i was born
after something important
had already passed me by.

i hear we love because He loved us first
but what am i supposed to do
when that first love feels far away,
like an echo i can’t follow
through the ruins of my own chest?

the yearning doesn’t even heat me anymore—
it’s a cold burn,
a dull pressure that never peaks,
never breaks,
never gives me the mercy
of understanding itself.

i’ve grown used to the shaking
that never reaches my skin—
tremors locked somewhere deep,
quiet as a dying star,
too tired to collapse,
too stubborn to fade.

the void sits inside me
with the patience of stone.
it doesn’t speak,
doesn’t soften,
doesn’t negotiate.
it just waits
for nothing.
expects nothing.
offers nothing.

i swear some nights
i can feel the emptiness
breathing slower than me,
as if even it is bored
of living in my chest.

i don’t call out for love anymore.
i don’t look for signs.
i don’t pretend something’s coming.

i just move through the days
with this quiet vacancy—
a room with no windows,
a heart with no footsteps,
a story missing its middle pages.

i’ve stopped asking “why.”
there’s no answer.
just the steady fact
that i was made with a space in me
that nothing has stepped into.

not yet.
maybe not ever.

and i think i’m finally
too numb
to fight that truth.

the hollow has outlasted the hope.
the ache has outlasted the asking.
and now it sits in me
like it belongs,
like it won,
like it always knew it would.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

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