So many interpretations come to mind at the thought of the word lonely.
To behold and not be held, to love and not be loved back,
to smile and not get a smile in return,
to feel so much yet your heart is empty,
to reach deep inside you to a bottomless pit of nothingness.
Is that it? If the answer is yes, then loneliness, like depression, is a disease........a silent, slow killer.
I see myself slowly fading, sinking even.
Where is my window?
Where is my ray of hope.
When will this heart sing?
So many questions.....no answers.
I lie awake each night wishing many wishes.
Wishing the arms tightly wrapped around me were not mine,
speaking to my pillow when I have something to say.
He never answers but in my heart I hear him speak.
He says all the things I crave to hear, I hear him well.
And when I cry, he gives me great soft silent comfort.
I named him..... a name close to my heart. He knows all my secrets.
He listens every night and he lets me hold him while I sleep but what pain?
He can not hold me back, he can not love me.
Sense and sensibility.
Am I on the brink, the verge of insanity?
If yes, then it doesn't feel as bad as they say.
Not bad....just empty.
And the colours?
Yes, I see them.
A kaleidoscope.
The many hues of lonely - they paint a picture of me.
