Alone

Stuck in this room
With so much to do
But not really wanting
To do it
Alone

I should play my viola
Or I'm going to get rusty
But the lonely music stand
Doesn't compel me
How I yearned for a solo
Once upon a time
Now I can't bear
To play
Alone

Without the swell
Of music 
Roaring and whispering
Being a part
of a greater whole
A symphony
Sounds better 
Than my playing
Alone

I could probably
read a book
Pick one from inside
The bursting gray bin
Some well loved
With familiar worn pages
Some brand new
Waiting to be
set free

But those pages
don't call to me
Like they once did before
I wish I could go
to the library
Kneel on the rough floors
To beg the shelves 
for the medicine I need
For the characters to come to life
So I don't feel so desolately
Alone

I have stacks and stacks
Of homework
I should probably dive into
But when I sit down
at the desk
I'm overwhelmed
By waves of longing

To take the twelve minute walk
Down to the school
Lose myself in crowded halls
Once full of smiles and chatter
Sit down in those tiny desks
The stagnant air
Once full of focused energy
When nobody could ever be truly
Alone

I try to make birthday cards
But it just gets me down
When I think about
How my birthday this year
Will be celebrated
Alone

It was supposed to be my 16th
The big bash
Now all I can do 
Is stare at the bunting banners
And golden happy birthday
We bought ahead of time
That only I will admire
Alone

So I'm still lying in bed
So hungry it hurts
I guess I'll down now
And eat breakfast
Alone

amaryllis

CA

YWP Alumni

More by amaryllis

  • Forgotten altars

    You blink and look and stare
    and stare

    As if trying to find the snag in the dream
    the catch in the sweater
    the cards hidden up someone's sleeves

    The meaning of this miracle that tapped you on the elbow
  • You, Tree

    As I sit on this stump and read
    from these pages of your cousin's pulped flesh,
    I burst with the excitement of next year seeing you draped in color,

    You. master of graceful loss.

    You, vessels of wasted breaths,
  • spiraling

    Spiraling odes of love and loss,
    lost pages strewn on the desk and the floor and the eyes and the sky and my limbs,
    each one with a piece of myself I do not want to see anymore.

    what have I created?