The winds blow through my heart stirring the dust of my memories.
Whistling through the empty spaces that I once had hoped to fill.
Never will I know what it is to be loved or needed, wanted or cherished.
Forever these spots will remain cold and lifeless, worn and destroyed.
The emptiness mocks me with its echoes of what could have been.
Of what will never be now. So I'll seal up this useless, hollow space,
piece by piece as it dies until there's not enough left to go on.
And then I'll seal up the last of it and allow the winds to die down
and the echoes to finally rest, the dust to settle and peace to blanket all.
After writing this, I've been unable to find a picture to fit it. If any of you have one or know of one you think would fit, please let me know.