And it’s not so bad, really,
Except sometimes the loneliness grabs you by the elbows, shakes, sour spittle in your face
It hits like a husband,
Blinding and sudden and with a confused expression on its face,
As if it’s not really sure what’s happening either
split lips and black eyes
You and it and an unfathomable dark
It buzzes. Hums. Sheds shushes like feathers on an unswept floor
And maybe once in a while, you hold its hand
Because it is something to hold