Dear Loneliness

Loneliness, how do I speak to you? You are me, and I'm right next to you. I look right past your beady eyes, and the ghost of your hand is laid on my thigh. I don't have much to say to you. Maybe that's because you're just a void. The lack of life and love, my companion. Abandonment planned in advance. You make me nauseous and tired. Inclined to give into desire. To feel good with your hand. I make no demands, I succumb. I fight for a day then go numb. The words evade me as I twiddle my thumbs, and there you are, playing with my thoughts. As if they're yours. They aren't quite mine. Silence is my only refuge from your influence, and yet you grow in the absence of word. Friends with fear and anxiety's anchor. Crying with no tears. I think I'm crying. It wouldn't matter, anyway. You can't wipe away my tears or hold me closely. You present memories so I understand why I need you. Why I can't live without you. Why we might as well marry. Why I can't admit that I love you. I'm addicted to you. I'd like to let you go. I'd like for you to die. I have better things to do than to waste my heart on your mind. I can't allow the belief that I'll never be alright. I'd like to say goodbye. I'd like to.