I am lonely, not lonely
the choice up to now
has been mine
I will slip away
(at will)
into the recesses
of small shops
of empty rooms
or quiet spaces
to avoid her touch
or his gaze
or their judgement
our subconscious desires.
But all swallowed up
deep in the belly
of fog, of smoke
a vast, impenetrable
night sky
suddenly the
all-encompassing fear
grips me
washes over
so suddenly
I realize
I have not lived at all
that I am
suddenly
(forcibly)
the only one left.
Down a long, winding road
that trudges on endlessly
into the fading silhouette of trees
and broken sidelines
dim headlights
I am lonely, not lonely.