In the evenings, the mist descends,
Casting us all in a blanket of comfort,
Silence is my companion in winter's solitude.
I wished for peace, but found quiet instead,
The bulb in my living room is my sun,
My guiding light, my source of warmth.

I have not loved.

Perhaps my solitude is deserved,
a worthy punishment for the cries of help
that I ignored in my helpless longing for fame.
Ambition is my downfall, the virus that consumes
my waking hours, my dreams, my heart