It’s a nagging feeling inside
my throat, seeping into my chest,
tightening its grip.
When I least expect it,
I’m dragged down by its
force and flung afar.
An emptiness, an unrequited desire
to belong to someone or something
greater then me.
I move as if a beautifully painted shell,
my insides hollow and dry,
leaving a trail of dust in my wake.
Cheryl Hall-Russell © 2013