The Hollow

With the slightest
touch
You're ablaze
yet
There's nothing left in
the ocean

A rippled wave.


Reach out for a hand
Drawing back.
The exchange of words
Often slack.



From

nothing.
To

something.

Pulse and pressure
Take

these.

Off me.
Do I measure?


Something will always be missing
When it comes to this
Is it the lack of interaction
Maybe what's left
is


Significance.