You will get tired.
Of waking up by yourself on frigid mornings,
Toes curled into formlessness by the chill of the air conditioner gone rogue,
Your pillow, the only audience of your previous snoring,
Doing nothing to change the unfashionable loneliness long in vogue.
You will be done.
With miserable lunches spent staring more than tasting,
The menu gone from memory before your body forgets it.
With dinners that perfectly define the wasting,
Of your time and your natural capacity to do more with it.
Alone is the new ‘together’,
Beeping machines introducing strangers who never become friends.
A hundred different ways to say “hello,”
But there’s no app for true contact.
Maybe you will find.
Someone to interrupt your aloneness,
A saving grace as fleeting as a shooting star.
But it will never be enough, that one moment,
And the sooner it passes, the sooner it feels far.