I.

The thing about being lonely is that it's more of an emotional thing.

I've been in a room, the same table, even, as people who know and love me

Well, do they love me?

I guess not, or else I wouldn't feel like they're miles away

II.

When I talk to someone, I like to think of me knocking on your front door, and you'll answer it,

Welcome me in with open arms,

Say how you've missed me

Except it's never like that.

Instead of a gentle tap on the door, I have to use the brass knocker.

Knocking turns into to pounding

Pounding turns into yelling

Just open the door

Open your damn door,

It's dark out here and I'm lonely

III.

It's nights like these when I'm acutely aware of the cold that presses its way into my room.

IV.

When I was little I wanted to be invisible

So I could steal candy, stay up late, do whatever I wanted without getting caught

Well now that I AM invisible, I'm not liking it all that much.

Being invisible has its down sides,

And sometimes when the three of us are together I'll ask a question

And it's like I'm not even there.

Hello, I'm sitting right across the table from you

But I must have my noise cancellation on because you didn't hear me.

Does no one hear me?

Will anyone ever hear me?

V.

The only thing that hurts more than being ignored is being forgotten.

I think you've done both.

I've been here for you every time.

Every time I'm the first to answer you

But you're not there for me.

It's like I have to bring a hammer every time I come knocking on your door, just to prove that I'm here.

One of these days I'll take the hammer and bust the damn thing down.

It's hard to be free

From the chains that bind your heart

Your soul

Your mind

It's hard to be free from the dark

The demons that lurk in your heart

Your soul

Your mind

It's hard to be free from the past

The reminders that haunt your heart

Your soul

Your mind

It's impossible to be free from the love that consumes my heart

My soul

And my mind.

Upon returning home to the little blue house, she felt a strange feeling of excitement, nostalgia, and maybe even a little innocence.

Her Cadillac looked grossly out of place among the beat up pickup trucks and old sedans of her relatives. Perhaps she would just sell it as it served only as a reminder of her failure.

She took her time getting out of the car. In her defense, she HAD made a point of dressing down for this occasion, having abandoned the riches of her past life with her CEO husband, their elegant penthouses and designer brand clothing. No, today she wore blue jeans and a chocolate brown blouse.

As she walked up the gravel to that little blue house the familiar scents of her childhood wafted through towards her- the clear country air, pumpkins, and a hint of cinnamon.

Pausing on the front porch, she took a few moments to pull herself together. It had been only two weeks since the divorce and to that point she still questioned her motives for returning home. It seemed strange to simply walk in the door, having been an alien from this home for so long but it also was wrong to ring the doorbell. No, she was not a stranger to her family although some days it felt like it.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Across the room her mother at the head of the table was just setting the table and had eight plates in her hand.

"Mom, I'm home."

-------------------------------------------

What do you think of this? I might try some more of these mini story sketches seeing as how my attention span is never log enough to complete a novel, hehe.

Comment, I'll love you 5ever