Loneliness is a Web, Im Caught in Emptiness


The worst kind of loneliness,
the overly crowded loneliness.
The one that creeps into my voice,
when I talk,
rotting my phrases.

The one I can never seem to escape,
even when I am lost among crowds.
It snags on to my presence,
like loose vein-like threads,
unraveling my knitted insides.

I pull with frantics fingers
and uncoordinated yanks
as I try to untangle it from my
tell-tale brass buttons.

I am singled out of a box of color,
as they fill in my shades and hues
of this black and white world,
forgetting that I wish to be the grey,
the one in between.

I feel emptiness
when my bones rattle with fear
when my knees drum against one another
when my teeth grind and my lip trembles.

My body is an instrument,
playing the symphony
of loneliness and unease.

I taste loneliness when
my mouth moves in desperate rythmes
against his,
the last-minute stranger,
the one who vanishes
when my eyes open to meet the sun.

I am lost and at your door,
you roughly grab the slowly
parts of me with the
softest, calloused hands.

With an embrace
tighter than my hand around my own throat
you bring me back from the loneliness,
the overly crowded loneliness.


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