Loneliness is not so unfamiliar as it is difficult;
Difficult because whenever I try to put a name or a face
To the restlessness of my heart,
I come to the frightening conclusion that there is nobody
That I actually miss;

And between busy days,
When I stop to slowly sip my morning coffee
I can't actually remember
Who my best friends were -
Only procedures, patterns, places,
As if I have become a case study for a thesis that is eating up my life.

And yet there is this great sense of being alone,
Like an old monument that has witnessed a city change,
Only to find itself the only familiar view on the landscape,
Its yellowed white hiding under another skin of paint.

Perhaps it is the blessing of a line of kindred spirits
Who had been with me for a little while, and then gone,
(We shall not debate who has outgrown who,)
But now my heart
Will not be satisfied
With anything less than a soul
Similarly burdened,
That it can no longer remember
The faces of even those
Who have bothered to come by
And put moisture to my cracking lips
In a desert of lonely souls.

Here i sit, longing, wanting,
Afraid that the same emptiness that drives me
To want to be wanted by beautiful strangers,
Is the only companion I must learn to live with
Until my heart gives up its beat.