Up at night


I’m not alone in the house, but I’m awake. Everyone is so far away in their slumber that they can’t hear me walking around the house, they aren’t bothered by my noise. I’m a ghost walking through the dark, barely lit rooms. Nobody notices me. It’s peaceful. A lonely peacefulness that soothes the want for interaction. I can move from room to room, I can exist, and it doesn’t bother anyone. Nobody to be annoyed by the creaky floor, nobody to notice me from the next room over. It’s nice to be able to just…be, without anyone else knowing, without bothering anyone else. To exist without having to bother anyone.


Still gone


It’s only been a few weeks but it feels like it’s been closer to months that we haven’t talked. I want to be mad at you. I want to hate you. It’s the only way I can justify that we aren’t talking; anger and loneliness are┬áto blame for the way I feel lately.

It really messes with you, having someone there for you from sun up to sun down every single day, to not having them anymore….at all.



You are always there for me.

You’re there when I wake up.

You’re there in my dreams.

You’re there to tell me “I’m here for you”

And when I wake up to start my day, you’re here to be with me.

Even after all my friends abandon me

When I’m left out

You’re there for me

Loneliness, you are my best friend.



2 am is for the poets who can’t sleep because their minds are alive with words for someone who’s not there.

For the alcoholics drinkings themselves into amnesia to forget someone who left.

2 am is not for the lovers asleep in each others arms.

It’s for the lonely, the ones who are in love with the loved but are not loved in return.