when we are alone it could mean less that we’re not surrounded or with the one or two people we feel know us best. we’re not so much stuck with ourselves, a limp body but who we are, who we think about, what we know and wish too. we don’t have to sit and endure our own company but our thoughts, the memories that begin to ache when our mind isn’t so much focused with the nine to five jobs and our cliché destroying relationships which tend to crumble no matter the effort to rebuild walls. it doesn’t matter to me that i’m by myself but that i am to remember what i don’t have, i once did hold and that letting go isn’t seeming to fill the crater in my desert of a damn heart.
