the lonely moon shall

be my only comfort

on these nights

when the chirping

of a lovesick cricket,

resounds a bit too

close to the beating

of my heart,

or when the cooing of a

lonesome dove

sounds more like

sighs and weeping.

it is the misty eye missing,

of something never

meant to be.

as daybreaks on

droplets of morning dew,

i watch the moon light

fade into

the rising sun,

and the way it reflects

the day’s new dawn.

there is a burning

away of midnight’s fog that

had settled all around,

separating us from

one another.

it is these alone

times…

these long hours…

of solitude

that remind me,

that i am not made

for joy in this world…

nor for the comfort

of being surrounded by friends.

hewn out of rock,

not formed from clay,

i am different.

stoic and all alone.

i have been cut from

a different cloth,

i have been chosen

and set aside.

i was made to be alone.