Loneliness chilled the very core of her being.
She, being used to it by this time,
shook it off as if it were a fast and fleeting thought
discovered of an innocent child
of a very obvious truth.
She ran her tongue gently along her teeth
and continued to read one of the greatest love stories ever written
-one that she had no doubt read before
and would read again-
And as she read this great story
of truth and triumph,
of love and life,
of dementia and disillusion,
the loneliness overtook her once more
grabbing hold of her soul and shaking it
as one might a dreamer whose skies of blue have turned red
with the doom of impending nightmare-
as one might, out of frustration,
shake a small child to make it understand.
And then she knew what it was that she was supposed to know.
She herself had caused this everpresent loneliness
by longing for a love quite like a love
out of an imagined chemistry
between two best friends on a tv show
-any tv show-
or out of the typical Hollywood style Happy Endings
where the delicate female would be rescued
by the strong, handsome male
(who, together, would share a deep kiss
before the camera faded out).
She had been the one to kid herself into thinking
Love was something like that
-something magickal, mystical
shared by two people and held in the highest regards
even if those people weren't.
She kidded herself when she told herself,
one day you'll love someone like that,
always and forever
Kidded herself when she didn't think
about the different layers of love there were.
When she didn't remember that there were
as many layers of love
as there were layers of people.
She screwed herself over emotionally
when she forgot that, like people,
there was no one good or evil thing
in truth or triumph,
love or life,
dementia or disillusionment.
And, with a aquamarine tear falling to hell past her cheek,
she silently tossed aside one of the greatest love stories ever written
and vowed never again to fool herself with happy endings
filled with only imagined romantic love
between two platonic friends.
It was all so cut and dry, now,
But Loneliness still refused to leave her.