Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry

Who Shall I Be?

Loneliness
 
I dare not mention the word loneliness for fear
it will slither off the page, get a stranglehold on my neck
choke the hope that remains unspent
hesitant to drop the loathsome word
there’s nothing left to discuss of loves
obsessions, all clawed away
inch by piece revealing what I was, did, thought
leaving embroiling emotion here where loneliness lives
an unwanted guest in an older man’s psyche
 
loneliness should not be the plight of an
aging queen, who can entertain himself with
pleasures society offers
I write my poems, sentences here and there
glimpsing upon joy or happiness
I draw and fill in the blanks with retail therapy
real-time therapy, recovery and dining out
gratifying for the moments they last, but…
 
there’s no panacea for this ail, no pill
to soothe loneliness’s ongoing
talons reaching deep inside, fearing if this be
my days, numbered though they may be
how does one make it from here to the next marker
until night, the rapacious killer
weariness descends, loneliness like the hunter
stalking its prey comes

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