Loneliness
is in the motel room
on the outskirts of Manhattan at midnight,
when cars are driving
and I know
you are in none of them.

Loneliness
is in the glimmer
of light upon my phone
so my heart flutters;
but the shadows just play tricks
and I know
you have not thought to send a word.

Loneliness
is in our embrace,
when I cling to you
with the naivety of a child,
while you give
a muttered whisper;
your nonchalant goodbye.

Loneliness is
my Self yearning
to touch the elusive Self of you.