27
EAST EXIT
⸻
there is a loneliness in this world,
this town.
i can hear it in the sound of the crickets
singing throughout midnight,
and the lonesome jingle of my neighbour's dog leash
in the morning.
i can see it in the blurry reflections of the traffic light
on rain puddles gathered at the empty intersection,
or catch a glimpse of it
when i bike past the old abandoned construction sites
across the town's local convenience store.
the loneliness is slow
meek,
like the constant rain
during autumn.
it lives
in the rare movements of the trees on either sides of roads,
and lingers
in the crisp sunlight playing on the windowsills.
it idles in the vast shadows cast upon the dewy lawns and cement walkways,
or stays still
next to the stone grave markers and rusted metal fences.
i can feel the loneliness in the narrow marrows of my bones,
the fogged exhale of my breath.
it sneaks inside my trunk, when i left the town,
and haunts me
to the big bustling cities.
i can sense it
loiters in the empty gaps of conversation,
coils deep inside the dark alleyways.
there is loneliness everywhere i look:
lost in the blurry motions of people as the subway train accelerates,
drown out by the monotone keyboards typing and printers humming in the office corner,
curls up under the park benches and the discarded newspaper,
sloshing in the cup of coffee overloaded with sugar.
i try to hide from loneliness.
become the centre of the spotlight,
and immerse myself in loud noises, endless words.
nonetheless, loneliness always finds me somehow.
it took me a while to learn to embrace it.
it took me a while to let it make a home within my heart.
but i don't think i'll ever be comfortable
falling asleep
to loneliness crawling under my skin
curdling in my blood.