Poetry & Prose


Lonely is not being alone.
Lonely is you.

Lonely is your fingers
Laced around your drink at a party
And all you see is your thumbs.

It is a soundless din
Around you.
And each thing’s much more
Profound, too.

It’s driving, Lonely.

Lonely is the streetlights
Glaring at you on the walk home,
Not allowing you to look at the houses.

To your left.
Or to your right.

Lonely is
Somebody else’s cigarette smoke,
But not somebody else.

It’s pretty, Lonely.

You want Lonely to leave a trace
So people can know,
But it does not do that for you.
It won’t.

Lonely is saying goodbye
To someone that didn’t need to know
You were leaving.

Lonely is you.
Lonely is not being alone.

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