I like late night malls,

empty stalls and creepy halls.

They’re wholesome, so awe

in their melancholic soul.

Its’ empty.


The school is empty on Saturdays and Sundays.

But on Saturdays, it’s open and we get free hot coco and its the best in town i swear.

We walk home, stopping by the pier that often carry our late night talks.

They don’t just exist after sundown, we have them all the time. Its one of those never ending conversation, ever so relieving to finally empty our lungs.

Its’ empty.


A glass is half full

or half empty.

I feel empty, as i create things full of promises.

It’s empty as i stare deep into this heart i love

and i’m emptying late night thoughts full of anxiety.

Empty or not its always full,

So what does that make it?





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