it’s a stupid kind of loneliness. <br />an intentional loneliness. <br />a stupid kind of intentional, confidently optimistic loneliness. <br />the loneliness of a browneyed boy <br />who has loved, <br />intensely, <br />and who was left alone. and now, <br />with faint remnants of scar tissue, is ready again. <br />but has decided to be extremely picky <br />so if it happens this time, <br />she’ll at least be worth remembering, <br />worth being sad over. <br />that is my loneliness. <br />the loneliness of the inside of the cheek, <br />when the facetious tongue has been removed for a moment <br />of solemnity or melancholy. <br />and, waiting patiently and politely, knows <br />that when the mirth and merriment and general geniality return, <br />the tongue will be there again. <br />and not necessarily my tongue.<br /><br />Jackson Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/analysis-of-my-loneliness/
