Alone Again: Poems and Entries I Write in Solitude

“Breaking Up”

To my Dearest friend, Loneliness,

So we meet again. I always embrace you with such familiarity and comfort, knowing how toxic you can be. You’ve never done any good for me - you try to sap my energy, my strength. Yet I keep welcoming you in every time you knock.

Sometimes, you let yourself in, unannounced. I can be bare naked, hot water pounding against my back, when you pull the shower curtains aside and suffocate me with a hug so tight I can feel my heart beating out of my chest.

Why do you do that, man?

You must be a man, because Loneliness, a woman has never made me feel debilitated and helpless the way you do. But, like a man, I find a strange comfort in you. I know that when you sit down to eat with me, you never want to leave. No matter who’s around. I can invite Peace, Laughter, Gratitude, even Positivity (your least favorite friend) to dinner and you’ll do anything to take the spotlight, capturing my attention.

Well, isn’t that true loyalty.

So, I should be loyalty to you, huh?

When you push me down onto my own bed, trying to take advantage of me while the sun is out - you just bring the clouds, you bring the unwanted sirens and noises outside of my window that make me feel your presence the most. And when I try to shake you off, you go and visit your other friends until you see I’m fine without you, and that ego of yours can’t stand it. So, you come back. Sometimes when other humans are around, other times when I find myself alone. And, you keep trying to feed my head with these broken promises that I will be in a much better place as long as I accept you:

BUT THAT “BETTER PLACE” IS RIGHT HERE.

Right now.

Without you.

I’ve got my old friends: Writing, Creativity and Love.

And those are all the friends I need. With them, I will never need you again.

So, get the fuck out, Loneliness.

Love for you doesn’t live here anymore. She left your ass long ago. My old friends are sticking with me until the end. Until we meet again, when I look you dead in the eye to show you: there will always be a better friend to replace you.

~~~~~~~

“Written But Unsaid”

Give me the moon...

And I’ll give everything else back

just to be able and see your brilliant smile again.

Let the wind hit my face

every time I leave the house...

And i’ll give away all the chains,

all the rings,

the shoes,

the jewelry,

just to be able and feel the love and

Endless hugs from you again.

Grant me life so I may sit near the river...

And I’d do anything

to be able and give you a glass of water again.

Send me a man who will love me forever...

And I’ll procreate the greatest version of you

to hold on tightly and never let you go

Again.

~~~~~~~

“Religion”

I used to love Sundays  - Dad and I would have breakfast  every Sunday  at Triple A  while mom was waitressing tables at Jackson Hole. Mondays had always been my favorite, too, because I loved going to school, escaping the reality of poverty that surrounded me, just to be encompassed by embroidered walls  and a beautiful rotunda staircase that made me feel like one day I can be a princess in a mansion of my own.

I liked Tuesdays, too,  because the week was still fresh,  and all the brain exercises that my teachers at school gave me  didn’t drain me yet.

Wednesdays and Thursdays came and went, and I started to dread the weekend... Every day except Sunday...because they were reminders of when my dad would leave  & stay out endless hours of the night just to escape his own reality  of never feeling enough love  from the woman he admired.

Fridays and Saturdays were the hardest. As much as I loved my mom, nothing compared to a man’s love, a man I knew would never leave me.

Then Sunday came, and I was all smiles again, grinning from ear to ear.

You became my Sunday .

The day I held your hand, you were my comfort, my sanctuary,  the continuum of a love that could never be replaced  but would live on outside of a physical realm. I imagined that having you in my life  meant I could still feel that love Here on Earth , Once that Sunday came  when I would have to say goodbye  to the twinkling eyes that gave me hope.

You became my Monday and Tuesday.

I was refreshed and renewed  every day I woke up to see your face.

Wednesday came, and I started to see you slip from my arms.

It is now Thursday... as I dread the haunting memories  of feeling incomplete on those weeknights, I’ll close my eyes and imagine a Sunday  that I was once  the happiest girl & woman in the world, and I'll see you again in my lucid dreams.