If I press on the pressure behind my eyes,
there is some sort of relief, momentarily.
Pushing trash down and further down
Hoping one of the roommates will take it out.

But no one’s home. Not any more.
No one but the dishes and hanging houseplants.
They can meet somewhere in the middle above the sink.
But I have nowhere to go.

No one to meet.

In my room alone, yet unwelcome.
Unfolded clothes and spotty mirrors,
assail me. Killing me in my sleep
would be the only way to keep my bed made.

Loneliness Caps my heart like persimmon’s leaves.
Sharp as belt buckles cold against belly skin,
The morning sun dulled behind grey skies,
I don’t want you to have to come out.

Not for me.