I know it’ll pass but the lonely is strong when I don’t want to cry into my pillow, filling it with my hurt because I want to be held.
When I want to cry into a chest more resilient than mine in the moment.
To be pulled in tighter than I can hug myself.
The lonely is strong when my self-soothing requires more heat than I can produce alone.
When it requires more than me.
I know the lonely won’t last
That it’ll pass in an hour
That the shadow it cast is as broken as my heart which at times feels like it’s made of glass
too stubborn to shatter but fragile enough to crack under pressure I pray just for good measure begging the universe to stop taking such pleasure in the loneliness
I can no longer contain, tonight.
I pray the blame away but the universe doesn’t play any games.
I know it won’t last but the lonely is strong and my pillows are full.
One thought on “The Lonely Hour”
I felt this to my soul, and oddly found comfort in being able to relate.
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