there was never any contentment in being alone for you
the presence of another is a feeling you always craved
having someone to talk to into the night about nothing
the weight of them on the other side of the warm bed

the sound of loneliness was almost too much to bear
the quiet shutting of cabinets in the dark moonlight
leaving lights on in an empty apartment to feel alive
the singular towel hanging from the bathroom wall

you wanted the comfort of another to hold onto
the smell of them lingering in the pillowcase
having their fingerprints leave marks on the tabletop
the noise of their slumber lulling you to sleep

there was a certain chaos to being by yourself
the treacherous territory of idleness and boredom
learning how to make dinner for only one
the unfamiliarity of discovering who you are

you felt that home was when you were with another
the taste of their lips in the pale morning light
hearing their voice behind closed bedroom doors
the discarded clothes strewn across the room

being alone felt heavier than anything you ever knew
because you knew the only company
you were able to keep
was your own