Loneliness is an unrelenting companion.
Loneliness is the swish of newspaper down your door, the milkman ringing the doorbell four times in the four seconds you take to open up. It is the hum of the geyser and bubbling water coming to a boil in the kitchen before you can fetch tea leaves and sugar. Loneliness is a hazy winter morning; the impenetrable white of fog.
Loneliness is the blues and greys of your wardrobe, the irritating drip of a leaky faucet that's been seeking repair for years.
Loneliness is the smell of burnt pancakes, the bitter crunch of the overdone crust at breakfast.
Loneliness is a last flick of the knob as you slide the lock into place behind you. It is the jingle of house keys inside your pocket when you trot down the stairs, sprinting to catch the bus. It is the clamoring by passengers for better seats.
Loneliness is armpit odour. It is the screech of brakes and a whiff of burning rubber when tyres grind against asphalt, preventing a crash. Loneliness is alien, collective sighs of relief.
Loneliness is the fraying yellow attendance register which you sign in blue every morning. Loneliness is half hearted good morning wishes. It is the stale, decadent coffee that greets you cold at your cluttered table. It is the black and white stack of paperwork demanding your attention.
Loneliness is the dull vibration of yet another business phone call. Loneliness is the pin drop silence at aboard meeting; how water should be sippedas unobtrusively as possible during a presentation.
Loneliness is the black and beige of pencil shavings littering your desk. It is the soul-less brown of the bulletin board you once pinned family pictures to. Loneliness is staring blankly at the blank laptop screen.
Loneliness is the scent of spices blending together at the office canteen. Loneliness is the cheerful murmur of distant conversations. It is the steel grey of your empty plate. And the bright red of your vacant table.
Loneliness is the disdain in your superior's tone, the monotonous reprimand of the wall clock that continues to tick at snail's pace.
Loneliness is journeying home- the carefree laughter of a teenage couple, the splatter of color in people's clothes, a stray dust print on your polished shoe.
Loneliness is the squeak of your sofa as it welcomes you back. It is the television blaring at full volume; the stench from unwashed socks. It is the acridity of nicotinous smoke and the saccharine miasma from alcohol being poured.
Loneliness is your wife's citrus perfume. Loneliness is sleep- the absence of her soft snores. It the pink pillow on the other side of the bed, no longer in use.
I am a 21 year old ambivert who devours books, movies and music. I like to experiment with poetry. My work has appeared in journals like Sonic Boom, Otoliths, Cattails, Brass Bell, Failed Haiku and The Gambler Mag, among others. I blog at mishkawrites.blogspot.in.