lonely

lonely

Smells are too pungent and natural daylight is too rare. If only someone were here to express these frustrations. Lay in my bed, say nothing, sleep happy, and feel rested. I can do without my detestable details and overly intricate expectations, as long as you can do the same. A time will come where I’ll ask you to dive into my brain with me. I hope you’ll join me but also be brave enough to yank me the fuck out when I’ve started to fry both our circuits.

Being lonely with myself and with others, it’s a self-inflicted state of mind wound. Hell bent on bringing the word itself to fruition while pushing aside the already established – we’re always alone. 

Instead I’d let you rest all day while I plunge into my mind, crafting my next battle plan. I’d look up to watch you sleep, prepared for the first eyelash to lift from below your eyes to welcome you with black coffee at first sight. That’d be enough. You be alone. I’ll be alone. 

Climb down from my loft, sip from your cup, and look out the window in your underwear at the birds. I return to my war chamber to plot the day. Never minding for one second, though, your invasion of my space is welcomed. Rest a head here or there. Share a laugh or nine. Smile, walk away back to sleep, look at the birds again, or start your own farmer’s market for all I care. 

Just be, forget the rest. Forget the world, their opinions, even those you share the room with. Be alone and love alone. 

by ty miller

 

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