Loneliness is the limbo land between ‘Don’t call me anymore.’ and ‘Nice to meet you.’
Loneliness is washing the same 1 plate and cup and knife and fork over and over again.
It is never using Your mug, in case you come back.
It’s a 4am glass of water at the kitchen sink in his t-shirt, wondering if he ever stands there, half naked and vulnerable, woken from a nightmare and thinking of me.
It’s hyper vigilant, on the nightwatch, waiting for the dawn to break so that you can finally let go of yesterday and sleep your way through a new day, because it still counts as long as you can mark it on the calendar, another day closer to becoming the person that you aren’t right now.
Loneliness is wanting to call but having nothing new to say so you type it out and file it away, like the love letters he was never ready to receive.
Loneliness is not speaking to a single soul all day and so you talk outloud before answering the phone so it doesnt come out as a croak, too soft or too loud, because in your silent vigile to spinsterdom, you’ve forgotten just how to use your own voice.
loneliness is lighting a candle to your former self, wondering if she’s still out there somewhere patiently waiting.
its the box of love letters, and cards and relationships lost at sea, which scream from the corner of the room, that you were once loved.
Loneliness is the sharp stab in your heart, in the moments between you drying the kitchen knife and pushing it into the knife block, the shadow behind that voice that whispers, please don’t! Put the knife down!
Loneliness is me without you, abruptly and roughly torn apart.
Loneliness is me lost inside, aware of how loud my breathing is, noticing how it echoes around me like an empty ballroom once filled with chatter and excitement and romance.
Loneliness is me staring into a mirror and seeing there is something missing behind my eyes, which tear up with tides of broken shards of my glass heart, each one whispering ‘I miss you’ as they roll down my cheeks and onto my chest, my body trying to cleanse myself of you, while I try to force them back to fill in the empty spaces where you and I used to be.