Lonely
I live alone.
I thought it was strange.
The man.
Although,
The middle of the night.
Can be a strange time.
He sleeps uncomfortably.
He is a living yet ethereal person.
Shh…
There’s someone sleeping.
Someone, but not me.
I made my bed that morning, but now it is undone.
I fell asleep on the rug.
I tossed and turned and howled.
We’re all tired in the morning.
I got up to go to work.
Dropping a coffee mug, losing my left shoe.
Throwing a pillow against the wall because I’m late.
I wanted to throw the pillow at him.
I hate that he doesn’t have a job.
He has nothing.
He’s like a ghost, except he dies over and over.
He becomes more cozy as winter goes on and the heat is on.
I live alone.
I had made a promise.
That if my house was haunted I would move.
We all make weird promises.
Thinking it will never happen.
The middle of the night can be a strange time.
I would sleepwalk and make bacon and eggs.
The man in the corner of my room is tall.
I live alone.
I live alone.
I wake up every day.
He doesn’t even sway.
When I throw my coffee mug at him.
Not in anger, but on a whim.
Mostly, I am nonchalant.
I am alive, what else could I want?
Sure, it would be nice to live alone.
But then who would answer my phone?
Sure, I’m the one who goes to the office.
But he gives me the best advice.
I don’t know which one of us is more alive.
We work together but neither of us thrive.
Goodnight, my friend, try to get some rest.
I passed out on the floor, trying my best.
I live alone.
He does too.
Copyright © Angelica Tao | Year Posted 2025
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