This which I call loneliness is cold.
This loneliness leaves the face wet and the heart starved…
This loneliness never began and this loneliness will never dissipate..
This loneliness leaves a stomache heavy and the head light..
This loneliness is lying beside a body but not feeling warm.
This loneliness is speaking to a face but not being heard.
This loneliness is crying softly but being resented for my noise.
I was born alone.
I’ve always been alone.
I shall die alone.
I resent the hope you gave me..
I resent the illusion you created for me..
An illusion I clung to that maybe for only a second…
I was not alone.
I am but a fragile fragment of thread on a sewing room floor
Useless, unwanted, meaningless
This which I call loneliness lingers by my side.
This which I call loneliness never strays very far from the back of my mind.
This which I call loneliness resurfaces from time to time..
This loneliness is cold.
This loneliness is bitter.
This loneliness cuts, bruises, burns and starves.
This which I call loneliness will be the congenital illness that takes
My simple, insignificant life.
Alone, the dreams you gave me sink.