I don’t believe
loneliness can stretch further than this—
a taut thread pulled to its breaking point,
and still, it holds.

The night presses in
with no edges to catch me,
only air too thin
to carry my weight.

I speak,
and the words fall soundless,
a language meant for someone
who isn’t here.

The quiet swells,
fills every room,
sinks into my skin.

I wonder if loneliness
has a shape
or if it’s just an absence,
a shadow too clever
to cast light.

I don’t believe
I could be more unseen
than I am now—
a ghost who hasn’t died,
a presence forgotten
by the space it once filled.