A heavy heart can't drive very fast
And with no destination
I spent my night crawling around side streets
Looking for an excuse to be anywhere
Other than in my own company
Being an introvert does not mean you must prescribe yourself loneliness
But loneliness is the cheap old couch that I just can't sell
Loneliness is the memories-for-decoration that my home is littered with
Loneliness is my own presence not taking up enough space
To fill anything except my bed
Being alone was once a comfort
But now it swallows me whole
Spits me out onto garden city streets
To drive  until I am too tired to steer
Not look as I pass the train tracks to get home
Pull into  the parking lot and sit
My car is easier to fill than a home