Where all life’s experience exists
Every true genuine feeling is felt
In one little room
To say whether it’s negative or positive
Is not up to me
Clearly I’ve lost you
But then again you aren’t here
And whether or not that’s important
I don’t know
Maybe somehow I enjoy this space
The excuse for isolation
Somehow consoling
Here there is no pressure
Everyone is shut away
Perfect
Until somehow it isn’t
Being with yourself too long is somehow
worse?
Not every moment is terrible
Being alone is not always, lonely
Sometimes it’s just thinking
Feeling and Being too
There is a melancholic comfort
In being alone
No Pressure
no need to convey my thinking
But then there’s ‘you’
Forcing me to acknowledge my discomfort, and discontent
Noticing my craving for connection
Wanting to escape this little room
You’ll show me how, won’t you?