I called my friend the other day and wanted to tell them how lonely I felt. But everything was wrapped in reality too tightly. Should I really share it with someone whose mind is never on ease? Should I show the back of my hand, where words write themselves, to someone whom I keep only in my past?
Perhaps the honesty would’ve been easier, but I ended up saying nothing. After all, it was just loneliness, and many people struggle with that, with every minute of their damn lives.
Don’t get me wrong, I know my feelings are valid. It’s just… something I can live with. Potentially.
My only advantage is, I can always come back to my head. Sink deeply in my mind where I always feel whole. I can write stories and create events. I can make conversations that never happened. I can draw faces and I can draw places that never disappear.
I can always talk to you in my head.
Even though, you don’t respond anymore.
I stare in every mirror, looking for your reflection. I look for your face on the streets, hoping to meet you one day. In the darkness, I can hear your voice calling my name. I close my eyes and I feel your warm arms around me, I can feel your soft lips on mine.
Being in my head is safe. Everything is colourful there, everything is interesting there. It’s only when I get out, do I realize I am completely alone. With every cell of my body, do I feel the loneliness coating me like a blanket.
Painted Poems 