pain

When Loneliness Becomes Your Lover

Painting by Edward Hopper

Painting by Edward Hopper

 

I remember
when I was little,
my dad checking for monsters
under my bed,
assuring,
reassuring,
that I was safe.
He could never
see
you.

I remember,
you in
middle school
looking pretty,
like the night,
exactly like I wanted
you to,
and the laughter of
the others.
They said I
was crazy,
they said,
your seat,
was always empty.

I remember,
the long walks home
from college, every day
and how much
I appreciated you
for being there
by my side,
and how the ignorant people
kept glancing at us,
as if we were
breaking the 4th wall.

I remember,
on graduation,
my mom and dad
being too busy
and you being the only one
in the sea of murmurs,
whom I
could call
my own.

 

I remember,
all those nights
when the world
ceased to matter,
and us,
just us,
hiding in my closet
because the lights
were too damn bright
for you
and I couldn’t see
you, suffering.

 

Now,
they’ve sent me,
to a doctor.
She wears silly ear rings,
and a perfume
that sucks my blood dry.
She, with her
pretty equipment,
checks my eyes
and my speech
and my soul.

She tells me,
that I need
to make friends,
to be more social,
dress better, maybe
because I’m losing me,
inside myself.

I smile,
but never tell her
about you.
Like I never told
my dad,
checking under my bed
all those years ago,
that one could
never
see
Loneliness.

And sometimes,
within the walls
of the mind,
it becomes
your lover.