12/17/24

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