What is the hardest part
                    Of being alone?
It's the quietness,
A stillness making
What ought have been a home-
a house.
It's filled with beds,
But those lover's nests
Are             Empty.
And the thought is
As occupying as a dream.
A dream you cannot feel
Because the loneliness is keeping you awake

With no one to hold down your fears
         And keep you safe.

Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind
  I turned to share the transport—O! with whom
  But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recall’d thee to my mind—
  But how could I forget thee? Through what power,
  Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss?—That thought’s return
  Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
  Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
  Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

My mind thrives in the night.

It takes to it like an empty canvas,
Forming infinite meaning of words,
  Creating pictures that hold more sound than color

And with each shifting moment,
the words change to an adverse
meaning unlike reality.

Creating a new world of glass,
Catching many reflections,
and Casting them with a jumble of meanings that hold more truth than I am capable of comprehending

Throwing thoughts in every direction,
Making me stumble in my sleepless sleep.

My mind thrives in the night.