Your loneliness spent the night,
having arrived for dinner
unannounced.
Do you feel better today
knowing I went so far into the heart of it
that I tapped out?
I am weaker than I ever imagined
and stronger,
the brows of both
lifted in surprise.
Loneliness is a fog.
It is not the blanket that some poets romanticize.
It is just cold.
But it motivates us towards warmth
and inclines us to see.
We swipe at our eyes
and wave our arms like windshield wipers.
Where is home?
Why has our shadow gone missing?
We look comical,
but here in the loneliness
we no longer care of hecklers.
Their company is welcome.
.
.
.
.
