31 December, 2022
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On certain days, my loneliness takes a form so solid that I am no longer lonely.
They, for of course my loneliness is a they, sit beside me with a posture I can never perfect,
Cross their legs, place their hands over their knees
And inch forward to listen to me better.
On such days, I tell my loneliness about my loneliness.
They listen patiently.
Occasionally chuckling, clapping or shaking their heads.
And when I weep, they don't weep with me.
They simply watch with unseeing eyes.
When I beg for an embrace, they hesitate for a second.
But my loneliness knows I've got noone except my loneliness
So they reluctantly stretch out their arms.
I'm thankful for their kindness but their arms are cold
And long,
Their embrace big enough to fit nine more people,
Big enough that there's so much empty space beside me
I don't feel their embrace at all.

On certain days, my loneliness takes a form so solid that I feel even more lonely.
They become another shape that's impossibly far away despite sitting right next to me
In their perfect posture, crossed legs, hand resting on their knees,
Head tilted forward to listen to me better.
On such days, I talk to my loneliness about everything except my loneliness.
Still, they hear nothing.
My words are a foreign language.
When I weep, my tears become one with the air so they never fall into my loneliness' outstretched palm.
When I beg for an embrace, they smile their knowing smile and beckon me closer.
On those days, my loneliness is so solid their arms are a stranger's arms,
Stiff and distracted,
Their embrace awkward enough to remind me they know nothing about me,
Awkward enough to make me realize
Even my loneliness isn't my own.