In my solitude,
when your night is lit by lasers, smoke, and liquor.
In my solitude,
when you stand in the middle of fake laughs that make you loathe yourself for pretending.
In my solitude,
when you sit on a Saturday night beside different faces and lipsticks,
searching for my eyes beneath their fake lashes.
In my solitude,
when you try to keep your guests on the phone entertained, and all you hear are annoying voices,
instead of my humming that lift your heart.
In my solitude,
when you button that fresh brown shirt, but your heart aches and feels so weary;
you'd wished you were wearing it for me.
In my solitude,
when you put on a mask like a glowing prince,
while you’re rotting inside,
and realize too late, the treatment you needed to give was the one meant for us,
like a true gentleman.
In my solitude,
when you thought freedom would be liberating,
but it's suffocating,
because you already know, baby,
I am your air.
I am in my solitude—
a stillness I chose,
a silence that cradles me without cruelty.
a place where you should have belonged.
You,
still restless in rooms that never knew your name,
still smiling in mirrors that don't reflect you.