Empty Spaces

I crack open the pantry, a sigh escapes my chest,

with shelves lined in shadows, an emptying nest.

A half jar of peanut butter, sticky with dreams,

remnants of meals that once filled up the seams.

In the corner, a can, lonely and quiet,

whispers of hunger, but nothing to riot.

Spices cling to the air, once vibrant and bold,

yet here I am standing, feeling tired and cold.