It is my time of loneliness.
The time when I memorize
every curve of my phone,
but I never feel it tickle my
fingers with its slight vibration.
A time when my face feels the
soft cooling side of the couch pillow
instead of the flow of a natural breeze.
When my mouth stays shut
and laughter is foreign.
The time when all I do is reminisce
about the way you used to call me
splendid under the crabapple tree
right before we got kicked out by the kids’
soccer team.
The mindless noise on the tv
of two brothers
screaming at one another over the
girl with the horrible taste in midnight
cherry lipstick.
A time of the mascara brush separating
each coated lash
that no one but my mirror will
gaze upon.
Newly curled hair
straight off the hot iron
that will fade like the sunlight.
But my loneliness feels as if
it will never fade.
My eyes so used to seeing
the blank space in front of me.
Maybe that’s why I drew on everything
when I was 5.
And the air in my lungs feels empty
making it harder to take in each breath
Like when the metal wire in the bulb
snaps, and the light flickers
and makes the glass break and
then no longer
exists.