I kept searching their faces
for answers they had never spoken.
And in the silence,
I became both the question
and the one trying to answer it.
Perhaps it was only
my own heart,
mistaking uncertainty
for rejection.
Still,
that did not stop the feeling
from making me small.
Everyone smiled.
Everyone was kind.
Yet somewhere inside me,
a quiet voice insisted
there was something
I could not hear.
Perhaps they were speaking.
Perhaps they were not.
The cruelest part
was never knowing.
Only wondering if the smiles
ended the moment
I walked away.
Lately,
loneliness has become
the only feeling that knows
how to find me.
And somewhere
along the way,
the memory of what it feels like
not to be lonely has begun
to slip away.