Writing Poem by Athena King

I sometimes find myself
Full to the brim of my skull
with nouns
verbs
adjectives
and all manner of pretty phrases.
So Full that they spillover from the top in
great drops
that spread black
across the page.

I sometimes find myself
so Empty
-not only of words-
that a blank page
feels like a mirror

Sometimes the Empty is
lake-smooth
and soothes my heart and mind

Sometimes the Empty is
a wall
that I am trapped
behind

Sometimes the Empty is
created by a melon-baller and it feels
as though all of me has been scooped out

Sometimes the Empty is
a jagged painful bro k en gla s s
mess that bleeds the black out like blood

My words have a tendency to desert me
but I do not hoard them while they are with me
because they beg to be let go
and I always fill back up