Echo of Emptiness

My stomach growls louder than rain on the glass,

as I stand by the fridge, nothing but air.

It opens, a barren landscape, vast,

a half-empty promise that offers despair.

I reach for a shelf that yields only light,

counting the days since I felt the delight

of something warm, something to fill,

a hunger that gnaws, a bottomless well.

Outside, the world moves, but I’m frozen in place,

as if the cold metal has lost its embrace.

What happens when silence becomes all that’s left,

when the rumble of need turns into regret?