In these times, I feel better.
The unexpected seclusion is somewhat
One of my darkest dreams—
To breathe the scent of detachment.
To be separate. To be far.
There’s a vile joy in this solitude.
My soul giggles in dirty laughter—
Am I evil?
And the laughter continues.
Closed doors. Locked gates.
Guarded streets. Empty roads.
Aren’t those my friends?
Idle hours. Blank nights.
Empty hallways. Silent skies.
Keep me still for a little bit longer.
Let me savor the world in silence.
Slow waves. Whispering waves.
Come hide this little island.
This little island is me.
Photo by david henrichs on Unsplash
© 2020 Onie Maniego and The Paper Drafts
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