Alone.
Is not the empty space
The destroyed face.
Or troubled home.
Alone.
Is not the victim
Of your battered strength
Or the chilling
Scream of palpitating death.
Alone.
Is not the choice
To walk
Or the advice you take
To stay.
Alone.
Is just one.
Of what it feels
As close as what life gives
To home.
Alone.
Is next to you.
Is ice between
My
Lungs.
Alone
Is all of me
Flying, falling, clinging, dying.
Just to be
Alone.
Is kissing skin
Meeting when
You use your mouth
To see.
MzArbitrary
