He tried to wear his loneliness with ease, walking through life like he always had somewhere to be. Like there was always someone waiting for him to share his stories over dinner and wine.
But it was starting to feel like a scratching sweater on his skin, causing micro tears that no one else could see. It was starting to feel like a too tight scarf around his neck, squeezing the colour from the day. It was starting to feel like heartburn, a rising acidic fire that he wanted to see leap skywards.
He had no one he could tell.
Leave a Reply