Solitude,
a gift,
a friend,
that which I thrive on.
He lulls me to sleep,
listens to my midnight thoughts,
caresses my body with his
wholesome embrace.
But I sometimes push him away,
ignore him,
replace him with trivial things,
empty conversations.
He, on the other hand,
whispers sad memories into my head,
reminds me of what I have lost,
how alone I get.
He forces me to vividly remember
memories I tried to forget.
Solitude creates an inner turbulence of
my ambivalence.
He relents and resents his replacements,
my so called "friends."
Yet, I am closer to solitude than anyone else.
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 6:37 PM UTC
Solitude,
a gift,
a friend,
that which I thrive on.
He lulls me to sleep,
listens to my midnight thoughts,
caresses my body with his
wholesome embrace.
But I sometimes push him away,
ignore him,
replace him with trivial things,
empty conversations.
He, on the other hand,
whispers sad memories into my head,
reminds me of what I have lost,
how alone I get.
He forces me to vividly remember
memories I tried to forget.
Solitude creates an inner turbulence of
my ambivalence.
He relents and resents his replacements,
my so called "friends."
Yet, I am closer to solitude than anyone else.
