A Lovesong for the Lonely
I don't know how many days you've gone without a decent hug,
but I do know that I see your little green light flash on and off.
I've seen you fish the internet like we all do these days,
throwing out bait on a long line in cold waters.
I've seen you listening through static,
turning the knobs,
looking for a frequency on someone to draw you in
and hold you, because somehow, somewhere,
there's got to be somebody
who will let you get close enough to take
a couple of long breaths
with your nose buried in the fabric of a worn shirt.
You wouldn't think people could even live
as long as we have without human contact.
Babies die from this kind of emptiness, you know?
"Failure to thrive," they call it.
But we hold up our chins and post a picture
of breakfast, then sit and wait
for something that never happens...
because it's embarrassing to admit that we are lonely.
It sounds so pitiful, like we're failures,
like something's wrong with us
that nobody has wanted us so far.
But honey, here's what I know. Most everybody's lonely.
Even people you think aren't.
So don't be ashamed.
You look around and you'll see a world full of people
aching to feel their lungs expand against another set of ribs,
looking for another mind to wrestle like two puppies on the carpet,
listening for someone to speak their names as familiar
as a screen door slamming shut.
You think you're the only one,
but most of everybody is folded over in a cramp
from the need for a good belly laugh.
You're not the only one leaning back
because the pull forward goes off into nothing.