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Desolate house,

my breathing echoes.

Silence takes over,

what little noise there once was.

I’m alone again.

I should be used to this by now.

But there is still,

this hollow feeling,

in my heart,

whenever I’m alone.

Maybe I yearn,

for someone to be here.

If that’s the case,

I’ve yearned for it,

my whole life.

I’ve spent 17 years,

being alone most of the time.

So why am I not used to this,

by now?



~*~ Jill ~*~