Me, Myself and My Loneliness

My loneliness is a ghost I sometimes let in through the back door

I purposely leave the door unlocked

Forget for a second it even exists

My loneliness is a homeless bastard

It asks for charity

As if it doesn’t already own half of my things

As if I am not charitable enough by letting it live rent-free inside of this body I call a house

My lonely has worn so many names

And tonight it wears yours

Like a dress on a gala

The type of dress you wear only in special occasions

I feel the bitter taste of the I love you

I’ve told you so many times tonight

It’s not sweet as it used to

It burns the back of my throat as I try to swallow it back

As if I’ve not said it before

As if it holds the weight of every name it has dressed as

My lonely is the reason why falling in love

feels more like falling down the stairs

less like flying

and more like taking part on a play where every character is a scam

And every scene is an illusion

So tonight

I’ll write your name in my memory

make sure to lock the backdoor

And tell the bastard

This house is not

giving charity any more.