They never found her body

Beware of the words that consumed her 

like love with passion and hunger

Leaving nothing but her hollow hands 

and brittle bones tapping on the keyboards

desperately clicking

to fill the silence of empty air 

An empty brain with no other thought than to get it all down

never living as what was writing without experience

Hollow 

Empty 

Colourless 

You can write about the wind kissing against your face 

or you can feel the ticklings of lonely fingers on your cheek when the spirits are hungry

They are hungry 

and she was hungry 

Longing for words

to feel the nothingness in her mouth 

everything passing her lips falling to the floor flat

grasping for the ink that stained her hands 

piling them in savouring them

desperate 

words chosen, picked

across her empty white plate of a page

Unsatisfied 

They couldn’t feed me

What words feed you