Obscure Loneliness | Poetry | Dear Juliet

I lay there
Hearing echoes from other rooms,
dishes on the kitchen sink,
and the building’s faulty pipes.

I lay there
With a willingness to move
But no strength to
So I wait
For what?
Anything really.

My mind decides to rest
slowly drifting away
from the sound,
my bed, and this head

I lay there
All too frequently
Eyes open, senses closed
I lay here waiting
for God know’s what