Loneliness is an apple hanging from a tree.
While plenty of brethren, no skins touch.
The space between ensures no borers to the core.
No branches to mar the perfect exterior.
Loneliness is standing in a crowd.
Feeling the thump of music but not my heart.
Wondering why all these people want to be in such close proximity.
They can't hear what each other has to say over the blare of the mic, the scritch of the guitar.
Maybe that's the point? Being together without obligation?
Loneliness is talking to the eccentric checkout lady at the grocery store.
Knowing full well she gets paid to make me feel welcome.
Testing her enthusiasm when I casually share about my inner world,
“I'm thinking about becoming an alcoholic when my kids leave home.”
Loneliness is having everything you need and still wanting more,
But achieving it feeling nothing.
There is a hole to loneliness, the whole of which can't be filled.
Best not to try. Stick to myself.
Loneliness is a place I have to go to find my way out.
Through the darkness and into the light.
The lightness of being free.
Freed from the hole, to find the wholeness of me.
Melanie B