Thursday

being devotchka
plant obscured from
light still thrives. idle in
the darkness that surrounds.
the lone wolf grazes, and the one
glacier that’s left floats
way from its friend
the land.

alone
is all we are, after all.
slow, the slow fade of
alone,
bed sheets tied up in
one another
legs,
tied up in
one another.

does darkness mean alone?
or everything?
either white or black
it’s every color
or no color
and I can never remember
to differentiate between the two
the binary of life and loss.
of feeling alone in a room of
five six
ten billion people.

the spirit becomes soft,
and fades into itself.
I become abstracted,
because the only self I know
stands in front of young bodies
and returns to forget
how to breathe not in front
of a crowd.

that is alone.