I lie in bed alone,
My thoughts are my own.
No one to talk to,
No one to hold me close.
The silence is deafening,
My heart is heavy and aching.
The loneliness is overwhelming,
I feel like I'm suffocating.
I try to fill the void,
But nothing can replace the joy of being loved and adored.
My soul is empty, my spirit is broken,
And I'm left here feeling so alone.
I try to find solace in the little things,
But it's not enough to make me feel complete.
I long for companionship and connection,
But it's hard to find when you're all alone.
I am enough, just as I am,
My worth is not defined by anyone else's plan.
I accept my flaws and imperfections,
And I know that I am worthy of love and affection.
I am strong and capable,
My heart is full of courage and resilience.
I will not be defined by my mistakes,
Instead I will use them to learn and grow.
I will love myself unconditionally,
And never forget my own beauty and worth
About the Creator
Shri Latha
I have 5+ years of experience in Finance and Stock Market, being a Cost Auditor I work with the B4 firms as an associate partner and also wrote few books and also write monthly article for Bizemag Business E - magazine.
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A Little Bit Of God
January 2026 I thought I’d spend the night in neon lights on grainy film but my brother is telling me how an eternity of hell is caused by prevalent peace, and who am I to disrupt such a thing? So I found myself in the same skin with the same sights, wondering whether or not I am one of those– do I feel peace? Do I expect more when it is gone? It being everything. We’re running out of time but the car is belching up something strange and we’ve got God in between our eyes nodding along to every apology and plea spoken for our friends and loved ones– they don’t know any better, they’ll come around eventually. He’s telling me about barbed wire guides around lives and ties and wives and lies and, look, the snow is starting to fall so I guess we better hang up soon. But it’s been too long. We’re building fields of skills and realms of distrust and these moments are only seen now, can no longer be read as words, only swept with eyes upon oil pastels or smudged charcoal. It’s a painting of an evening, like Daniel’s soles in Edgar Degas’ mind, but if anything is just it’s the lack of unrest in skin like His and lives like this– okay, so maybe five hours on the phone is a lot if you have a job and you’re trying to cook dinner, but only one of us falls into that gorge and only one of us believes in what lies beneath it. My brother tells me things that sit in my spirit like half an ounce of prospect and a squeeze of bourn, how he tells God to let me in: despite my sins, despite all the moons in between these calls, despite the burning in both of our throats. I do feel peace here. I also feel that my peace is a subpar window job, a pinky’s strength avoiding blizzards inside the bedsheets. I’d like to spend more nights like this, with contrasting disaster living between a speakerphone, and God finding some space in between.
By Olivia Dodge2 days ago in Poets
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