Just It — Jaded

Loneliness isn’t the right word for my distance.
And calling me a poet—
well, that doesn’t mean love will find me.
When you hear opinions, assumptions, mediocrity,
you learn to brush off their tracks—
yes, tracks.
Because sometimes you have to go back
just to move forward.
Loneliness isn’t the right word for my distance.
And calling me a poet—
well, that doesn’t mean love will find me.
Happiness comes alive in the midnight hours,
in sleeping souls
and moonlit skies.
It’s not that I’m avoiding love, justice, or the shape of things.
It’s just—at heart, I want to be alone.
The world feels quieter,
the universe more willing,
and me—more grateful.
Just a thought.
Anyways.