Seemingly Endless Isolation
There are no Iso-Tonics for isolation one is left to find healing alone.
Isolation.
Solo, so low, As the world around holds countless lovers wrapped in each others arms. On every screen, every corner, one cannot escape companionship, it haunts their lonely eyes. Only emptiness and their shadows accompany them. Lips thirst for a kiss, arms stretch in the wee hours of dawn to empty sheets. Memories plague them, from some other life before abcence, the abscess of love, a cavity in their soul. Seclusion, preclusion, disillusioned, some stand on the brink of city bridges, seeking to embrace death. Others squat in squallid apartments totally apart, but never meant to be. Some never know love, and learn to love themselves, or to love others from afar. Inside each soul is a Romeo, a Juliet, but often the balcony overlooks nothing but despair, with no one there to call thier name. A bald Rapunzel, a comatose Sleeping Beauty, a Frog who never gets kissed, as happily ever after remains once upon a time.
© 2009 Matthew Frederick Blowers III