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.