In a quiet room
Full of darkness
In silence I lie
Thinking about you
With a heavy heart
And tears streaming down my face…

If I stopped believing in love,
Could I then get over you?
If I closed my eyes and wished you away,
Would you then disappear?
If I held my breath and hoped to die,
Would I then be free?

I’m only asking because I need to know
Where do I go from here?

Mirror mirror on the wall
Showing me truths you hide from all
A monster in your face I see
The monster looks just like me
Alone, frustrated, angry or hurt
Whiny, boring, rude and curt
Fists of hate and eyes of sorrow
Truths don’t heal, so lies I borrow
Broken heart, tired soul
Begs for freedom from lack of control
The face I see in the mirror is mine
But hark! It could very well be thine.

Hope clouds reason
Truth behind closed eyes
We wait for something
To rescue us. Our prize
Is what we’ve shared
And may never again have
But I’m still here
If only to save you from the sun
And I’m still here
If only to save you with my gun
I heard your voice
In my head; it brought me peace
But an awful truth follows me
To leave me ill at ease -
That I hate the sun
And I hate my gun
And I hate being alone
But that’s exactly what I am.

It’s so confusing. I sit here in front of the PC, fingers on oily keys on a dirty black keyboard. I want to write, but I have nothing to write about. I want to think, but I don’t know what I’m thinking. I wish I could tell you how beautiful the night is, but I haven’t even looked out my window. A tempting cool breeze softly blows in through the open window diagonally across me, partially blocked by the heavy brown curtains. This is annoying. I’ve been thinking of a couple of lines… I can see them clearly written, beautiful and perfect, but the start and middle of the poem/prose is a blank white page.

I could write about how I’m still alone, and how sad it is that Love sometimes cannot be found even when you search for it. I could write about how I’ve grown even more self-reliant these last few days, and come to the realization that no matter how well someone knows me and how close they are to me, no one understands me as well as I do. The Lone Wolf once again.

I could paint yet another picture of me, alone under my beloved night sky. She reads my thoughts, and I lose myself in her countless, twinkling stars. Not a word needs to be spoken, and I’m free to think about everything… all the friends I’ve made, all the love I thought I’d found, all the sins I’ve committed, everything that shackles me, and everything that sets me free. Alone, as usual, under starry black sky, no one in my thoughts, and I in no one else’s. Come the first rays of dawn, I become the wind and blow away…