And the irony, although cruel,
lies in the following fact:

People always leave,
but the loneliness never does.

“Is that the only thing people are good for?”
She whispered.
“Leaving?”

Your company ,
Is wanted,
Yet mine is not.
My words mean nothing
As they tie in a knot.
I slow walk behind
As you hold their hands.
And I know,
That I am the one you can’t stand.
Yet you make yourself known,
Like the lead of a pack.
But your acting ,
So greatly ,
As I hang in the back.

The windows are closed,
The lights are off,
My mind and I are all I´ve got.

My friends are there,
nowhere to be found,
and I am here
all alone.

I wish I could,
reach out and feel
the love for you
I always craved.

But all I have,
and all I know,
is the way
the bottles
stir up my soul.

I missed you once,
I missed you twice,
Then I drank,
Forgot at once.

I knew there was more,
and I opened the door,
you entered with pride,
but I was alive.

How does one ask for help
in a helpless situation?

Drowning,
crying,
struggling to find the words
in a vacuum of doubt

and loneliness.


When nobody's there,
how deep does the ocean go
until I stop drifting away?

How does one ask
without needing to say?

The gentle bite of silence
In night seems like a kiss
My gaze held as a weapon
Ignoring risk

So I remain free from fear
Doesn't work too well
Between eyes and mine is space
Day after day I miss your smell

Turn not ahead but towards me
Me and you formerly had it all
Stars used to shine for only us
They have since begun to fall

But if you remember
I'll love you til I die
Depths of devotion
Give me one more try

The thing about loneliness is that it is familiar. It is the one constant companion that I have had for my entire life. Empty words, empty words. Like the feeling of a kiss’s remnant long after its companion is gone. It isn’t electric static but it is the feeling of right after you get a static shock. Like the pang of a ghost pain that leaves you questioning whether it really hurts. Is my pain tolerance that low? Generations and generations of pain and trauma and a little bit of friction in the air is what brings me to my knees; but maybe it is like the tension between mother and daughter. Like mother and daughter.

Sit with me,
Just for a while.
I am no creature,
Nor am I vile.
I ponder and wander,
Sitting alone.
Perhaps your company
Would feel like home?
It is too silent,
But I cannot say.
My body stays quiet,
Through night and day.
As all I crave,
Is a word to share.
To someone who stays,

And someone who cares.