You Don’t Get Lonely, Do You?

“You don’t get lonely, do you?” she asserts. I am dumbstruck, fumbling to put together a credible reply. She’s a close friend, we’ve known each other for years. Perhaps that’s the problem. I believed we knew each other well but she is simply wrong, so wrong. If she really believes what she is saying then she does not “know” me at all.

Of course I get lonely sometimes, we all do. So lonely it burns. That she can’t perceive this astonishes me, but then I ask myself why. Is it something in her, perhaps a lack of insight or empathy? Or is it me? Maybe I hide things well, even if I am not consciously aware of doing it. It makes some kind of sense to keep one’s innermost fears and secrets hidden behind a facade. We all have things that we feel shame about and we don’t like to be judged upon them.

There’s something else I must tell you about. Jealousy. There is something in her tone of voice that gives it away, a bitterness, a hint of resentment that colours her words. It’s as if she is saying “You don’t get lonely, do you? I do. It’s not fair.”

There’s no time to go off on an “it’s not fair” tangent. She’s still waiting for my reply. “I do get lonely sometimes,” I admit, “but I like to spend some time alone too.” It is the best that I can do. A pathetic little admission, followed up with an even more pitiful attempt to rationalise it.

Does she know me? Do I know me? I used to think so… now I’m not so sure.

Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.

She Sits Alone

She sits alone all day
And looks out of the window.

A window dusted with snow,
quietly waiting for spring.

Spring warms the garden,
yellow daffodils blink in surprise.

Surprised by the heat of summer,
she opens the window and cries.

She cries and her tears fall
with the autumn leaves.

She sits alone all day
And looks out of the window.

Copyright © Shona Silverman 2018

 

 

 

 

 

Green and Blue

A dream, green and blue,
of waves kissing the shore.
Warm breeze-tousled hair,
fingertips touching my face.

I loved him and he loved me,
his jade eyes searching, knowing.
I was happy for a little while
in my dream of green and blue.

 

 

 

What is he thinking?

What is he thinking
behind dark eyes?
You know him well,
or so you believe.

Last time, puzzled,
you dared to ask.
Do you love me?
No reply, of course.

Stop wondering
about his thoughts.
They are just words
you need not know.

Watch him move,
see what he does.
It doesn’t matter much
what he is thinking.