loneliness

Loneliness is socially awkward.
Even among its own.
when two or more lonelinesses meet
(often in a nightly spell)
they deepen and darken one another
without a hint of malice though.
There is the barest acknowledgment
of an absence of light,common to all.
a necessarily uncomfortable quiet.
There is no scratching of surfaces,
corrugated as they are, nor softening
of edges. they become whetstones,
sharpening themselves on each other,
ready to stab their renewed selves back
into restful hearts hopeful of
dawn's companionship.

sometimes though,
a loneliness tests its limits,
questions itself without fear,
or pity, or affectation. Not even
love.unfazed it fades.an implosion
swallowed by watchful but silent
skies. As dawn breaks, a restless
heart wakes up to a poem.