Loneliness

Loneliness is cold

A chilling frost

Forbidding atmosphere

That arrives upon me as

Subtle as blades

Heavy as crushing gravity

And uninviting as

The betrayal of a knife in the back

Taking over

The comfort of belonging

Ripping away my serenity

Into the depths of denied warmth.

Shivering in black ripples

I turn up my collar

Roll down my thoughts

Against its prevailing wind

Hoping to find shelter

Instead finding voices

In a night of long knives

Slowly slicing away

At my dilapidated skin

Opening my insecurities

Drowning my desires

For the company of a friendly soul.

This unbearable misery

A nightmare of

Invisible inclement weather

Showers a sinister unease

Drenching my joy

Until I raise

My eyes and voice

In a vertical direction

Beneath this burden

Calling out to you

The silent love

Surrounding my sadness

In the rays of your morning sun.

Copyright © 2022 Charles Edward York

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