Crimson Loneliness: Why Aren’t You Ever There For me?

Crimson Loneliness

They come to me
When words are spilling out of them,
Unstemmable blood oozing from a wound,
Inflicted by sharp tongues
On the soft tissue of friendship.
And I wrap them up in
A blanket of there-there,
Launder their pain through the porous veils of my life’s breath,
Until they leave,
Dry and anaemic,
And I stand alone, dripping the crimson of their emotion.

But when I am hurting,
Anxious, invisible,
I gaze through the window
At the tilt-shift of nothingness.
I hear the impatience in their voices,
The cluck of boredom and yearned get-away-from-here,
Their flat tone drumming its fingers
On the barrel of their indifference.
Their eyes are vacant,
Empty pools in which my loneliness is reflected back to me.
I promise myself, ‘No more’,
But I am voile
Through which all sadness passes.

© Carly Dugmore