Loneliness is the sound of a sad, muted piano,

As it drifts into a silent night unheard,

Dearly loved by those hedges or melancholy colors,

Which are incapable of sharing any word.


Loneliness is the gleaming of bright approaching headlights,

Cutting through the mist or foggy right,

As they pass along by without seeming to see you there,

As you trudge of into the shadowed night.


Loneliness is that feeling with your friends

That your not the same anymore,

That time has changed you for the worst in deft division,

As you pace with them from store to store.


Loneliness is the sound of music echoing in empty halls;

It's the dream where you want to wake but can't.

Loneliness is the empty, awkward gaps in your conversation,

As you try to think of words but simply pant.


Loneliness is staying home only on Friday nights

And feeling glad that your alone,

But sad that you cannot seem to find someone to like,

As you look at that dusty, un-used phone.


Loneliness is that feeling on an empty, windy beach

When you wait up late to see a setting sun

Longing to share your simple joy and at the mesmerizing hues,

And look around you seeing absolutely no one.


Loneliness is that feeling when your cold without a blanket,

Or empty without any meal, and feeling like your sick;

Or playing games and speaking words that no one ever shares;

Or simply hearing the bedroom clock tic and tic and tic.


Loneliness is many things, but most of all it's this:

Typing late at night upon a glowing screen,

Happening to hear a basement heater softly hum and hiss,

As you type about the loneliness you feel and what it seems to mean.