October 5, 2012
More by this author
In a noisy,
crowded room
of my very best friends,
I feel suffocated.

Their presence is heavy,
and too warm,
like humid air
in the summertime.

I don't hate
the people
I've surrounded myself with,
just the opposite,
in fact.

Some nights, though,
I am alone.
I draw on the walls,
and relish in
the feeling,
of being the last person on earth.

And some nights,
I'll close
the front door
to a friend's house,
stepping out
from the hot, crushing weight of people.
And into the cool night,
alone and happy.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback