The Draft Fiction is a home for complete short fiction ranging from punchy 500-word snapshots to rich, layered stories up to 8,000 words. We showcase original work from both new and seasoned writers, with a focus on storytelling that sparks emotion and stirs the imagination.
The Hollow I’ve Become
If I could have just one more day,
I’d tell her all the words I couldn’t say,
Wrap her in my arms and hold her tight,
And never let go, through day or night.
I was a fool, I let her slip away,
Thought I’d move on, but the pain won’t sway.
Pills couldn’t numb the ache inside,
The emptiness is here, it’s never died.
She’s the reason for every word I write,
The poems born from the dark of night.
She’s the laugh I can no longer hear,
The love I can’t touch, though it’s so near.
Now I walk this world, a hollow shell,
Passing through life in a quiet hell.
Not living, just waiting for something to change,
But the weight of the loss is far too strange.
I want her to be happy, that’s all I ask,
Even if it means I wear this mask.
If my love is a burden she cannot bear,
I’ll fade away, and leave her air.
I’d rather be alone for the rest of time,
Than force myself on her, make her climb.
But inside me, a piece is forever torn,
From the love I lost, from the heart I mourn.
