I can see myself laid out in fragmentary montages
With whomever happens to look my way.
I am lonely,
And there is nothing beautiful or noteworthy about it.
I am tucking myself into bed with a kiss on the cheek and a flutter of eyelashes on my forehead.
I am lonely,
And I put in the least amount of effort to change it.
I am leaving notes for myself on every bathroom mirror.
My diary entries are getting longer, speaking to empty paper.
I can’t help but wonder if this is really how everyone feels.
How can we all keep going if this is the default?
I don’t send messages because I don’t want to scare you,
I want to be nice, sweet, calm, chill, exactly what you want,
Baby.
But I’m dying and I know you’re a mile away.
I will never, ever let you know.
I am lonely,
And I will shove it in the garbage can with the drinks you left on my nightstand.
This is not the way it is supposed to be.
This is not the mark on the wall, the lights in the driveway, the bookmark in your pages.
I wish for nothing more than a little bit more.
I am lonely,
And I will never, ever tell you.
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