The Lonely Night

I.

The thing about being lonely is that it's more of an emotional thing.

I've been in a room, the same table, even, as people who know and love me

Well, do they love me?

I guess not, or else I wouldn't feel like they're miles away

II.

When I talk to someone, I like to think of me knocking on your front door, and you'll answer it,

Welcome me in with open arms,

Say how you've missed me

Except it's never like that.

Instead of a gentle tap on the door, I have to use the brass knocker.

Knocking turns into to pounding

Pounding turns into yelling

Just open the door

Open your damn door,

It's dark out here and I'm lonely

III.

It's nights like these when I'm acutely aware of the cold that presses its way into my room.

IV.

When I was little I wanted to be invisible

So I could steal candy, stay up late, do whatever I wanted without getting caught

Well now that I AM invisible, I'm not liking it all that much.

Being invisible has its down sides,

And sometimes when the three of us are together I'll ask a question

And it's like I'm not even there.

Hello, I'm sitting right across the table from you

But I must have my noise cancellation on because you didn't hear me.

Does no one hear me?

Will anyone ever hear me?

V.

The only thing that hurts more than being ignored is being forgotten.

I think you've done both.

I've been here for you every time.

Every time I'm the first to answer you

But you're not there for me.

It's like I have to bring a hammer every time I come knocking on your door, just to prove that I'm here.

One of these days I'll take the hammer and bust the damn thing down.