A Synonym For Lonely

I don’t want to be your receptacle, your waste bin for snagged pick-up lines and heavy breathing fantasies. To you I am simply a thing to fill, something for you to repaint so that I might match a mirage, a paradise in your mind. I want you to read me like one reads a forgotten love letter. I want you to venture within me to see the sprouting seeds in my mind, not to feast upon the pomegranates in my pelvis. But you would rather trail my skin as if beneath my flesh hid my secrets encoded in braille. I wish you knew that my secrets do not cower in my body. I bleed myself onto a keyboard. I knit my secrets into words and punctuate them with bows. I hand them to you for your consumption, but you let them fall through your fingers like ash. All I can do is hide away. All I can do is move my jaw like a marionette and pretend that my heart’s sutures aren’t bursting.