I’m not lonely because I’m alone.
I don’t yearn for flesh and bone,
or blunder from the folly of base desire.
I’m undaunted by the demons
that lurk in dark corners;
I am immune to the vast stillness
that descends upon 3am –
it can swallow me up;
no hand to hold could save me
from what I do not fear.
I do not crave another body to possess;
another ribcage to reside,
a heart to lay my flag,
or soul to beguile
with the illusion of
something they call
I don’t seek another half;
why do you think I’m not whole?
I may be broken, love –
put back together in an ugly mess
of cemented cracks and misplaced parts,
but in here I am enough –
I am enough.
I am queen.
I am mine, alone,
and only to myself, will I ever belong.
No, I’m not lonely because I’m alone.
I’m lonely because nobody understands.