Web of Loneliness Poems

Poems of the Lonely

Tag Archives: loss


And I’ve lost my footing once again
While moon drops reflect upon the sea
To cushion the love I have for you
To cushion the loss of inevitability
The driving concern to fill the need
The void deepens as I reach, reach.
For our last breath
And you hold out no arms
To brace me
From impact
So slammed
I am
Deep within the rocks
Stone shelter me
Caress the inner workings of my slight
Twist of hand
To breathe the air you breathe
To hear the words you speak
I am but the echoes of the love
You are to me
Up on a pedestal doused in esteem
It is the joy I once bathed you in
It is the love you do not feel for me

-MHK 2001-


My Last Tear

Last night was hard
cause i cried my last tear
Hoping these feelings are gone
hoping they’ll disappear
To many days i
been feeling this way
I’m like and open book
With my feelings on display
My eyes are red
and my mind is unstable
Can i make it through the day
i dont think im able
My head hurts and
im in pain
Am i losing my mind
or jus going insane
I’m trying to make it
without you here
While trying to hold back
this very last tear
Last night was hard
but the days will get better
As i seal with a kiss
on my last letter!?!?

Inside Outed

If you ever want to see
Just how much you mean to me
Take a ride within my mind
I’ll show you how your love feels kind

Discover all I want to be
And see my vast transparency
Take notice of what you walk by
You’ll see how my life’s strange – and why

While strolling through my corridors
You’ll see my pride there on the floor
‘Cause long ago I dropped it there
Assuming someone really cared

When gazing at my sordid past
You’ll find that nothing ever lasts
No friendship, laughter, love or smile
Lasts longer than a little while

You spot a room where trust is stored
Investigate beyond its doors
The little boy that’s cries out loud
Feels broken promises they vowed

But walking past my memories
You’ll find a time when I felt free
Not shackled by my losses great
No bruises from the ones that hate

And then there’s places deep inside
Where thoughts of love – they cannot hide
You’ll wander past them then you’ll see
Just take some time, and take in me

A shining light now guides you close
To where my joy resides the most
You turn the corner with wide eyes
You see yourself to your surprise

You represent the joy I’ve had
Start playing with times I was glad
You’ll skip along just having fun
You’ll laugh and smile before it’s done

It’s time to go now, you’re all done
Sometimes we have to end the fun
But don’t think it’s a sadder time
Just know that someday — YOU’LL BE MINE



I wrote this poem at an extremely lonely period in my life. It touches on disappointment and loss along periods in my life, as well as portraying hope that I had within a certain person that we would become close friends.

I wrote it as a sort of warning to her, that I was damaged goods and it wouldn’t be a walk-in-the-park with me at an emotional level. I have been damaged badly, and for the most part, from circumstances and actions not of my doing. The poem was supposed to be a clever and entertaining (in my mind) way to give her a heads-up about my emotional baggage, but at the same time it was supposed to shed light on the fact that no matter how lonely I am, I still reserve energy to make the best of things. It was supposed to show her that I still have more than enough capacity to love, show respect, and to share on an equal basis. . . .Or so I thought.

The poem wasn’t well taken by her. She immediately saw me as “troubled”, because “40 year-old men aren’t supposed to be that emotional and fragile, they’re supposed to have gotten over all of that by now.” . . . . . . I was devastated. The relationship fizzled-out not too long after that. No matter how up-beat and positive I was for her, she always had it in the back of her head that I was damaged. Irreparably. She felt that I would need someone who must coddle me and constantly validate my self-esteem. No matter how much I stayed away from the subject to move on and just enjoy life as it came, never concentrating on the past, she just had changed.

Apparently she had been with someone who was emotionally damaged before, and went through hell with him. She an independent woman, who was financially more than just comfortable, and wanted a care-free life. And I don’t blame her, I would want the same if I had the chance, especially if I had gone through tough times with an “un-stable” man (woman in my case), as she had. So I let her go.

But this piece means a great deal to me, for it exposes the hope I have within me. It is true that I am depressed, it is true that I am lonely, it is true that I have no one in my life – not even family. But I have hope, and I am always willing to be open and honest and sharing to another. Human Being, especially a romantic interest. I believe in communication for the reasons of properly dealing with past issues, to put them to bed so to speak, resolve them and move on, so there’s so surprises – no secrets between two lovers – so they have nothing weighing them down. Communication is the absolute key to a relationship, and that’s what the spirit of this poem is about – unfettered, unrestricted communication, and just how much this certain person lit my life up t the time.

I hope someone, at least one person – gets something out of this. I’m not sure if it will be put up in the list of poems, but I hope it does.


The anxiety builds and I write it out, I write it out…  Words swim in my head and crush against the rocks of verbal limits.  Thoughts flow faster that words, they drown before I grasp them.  What is the origin of these thoughts, these words that won’t let me rest.  I want to reach out for another consciousness because I can’t stand being imprisoned in mine.  It’s like a room one has lived in their whole life, not much changes, more useless, scattered junk accumulated over the years.  I do some dusting from time to time but mostly I’m sick of the same four walls dressed with circulating questions, doubts, and ambivalent truths.  Someone else’s room always looks more enticing, because you only get to peek through the key hole, you can’t see their clutter, you can’t see they are just as suffocated as you are.

We live most of our lives on the periphery of consciousness, immersed in sensory awareness, pressing needs, trivial demands.  The mundane is depressing when not infused with the fullness of the moment.  Than again why would you want to be mindful while washing the dishes or taking a shit?  What divine meaning can one find in throwing out the trash?  Some are afraid of naked existence and seek comfort in uncomplicated deterministic truths; some carry the burden of meaning overload.

Could the world be so sensitive that when I gently touch a leaf today, someone will smile tomorrow?  What if everything is always “in intimate conversation with everything else”?  How would one live their life with the acuteness of that knowledge.

The physical plane feels so sluggish, so slow.  Continuous bliss is impossible in this plane of learning through suffering and loss.

I feel as if I can’t get attached to anything since it is never mine to keep, the eternal flux of life will sweep it away leaving me only with myself.  The true connection is only in essence, essence that we unfortunately cannot perceive.  What a cruel punishment to feel emotions in this suspiciously interconnected universe where nothing is static and everything is a reminder of how painfully separate we are by the function of consciousness.

How sad to float amidst, but alone.

I touch the body of another wondering it is only an earthly blanket for the soul, aware that I can’t imprison a soul, much like I can never lose a soul connection.  Yet still I somehow want to hold onto this other body and preserve the moment that I feel slipping through my fingers at the very allusive now.  To capture now.   To fully embrace something that passes faster that a blink of an eye, seems there is not enough time to descend into this vague thing called the moment, a shattered peace of the hologram of time and awareness.

Why learn everything that I can conceive knowing, why can’t I just flow through this experience like thoughts flow through my head, so swift and gentle… I can’t feel them.

This earthly form with all its physiological implications of feeling and thought, of addiction to certain feelings and thoughts makes the conception of spirit a nuisance.  If one could settle for the limitations of the body and mind without conceiving of some perfect energy form one is at the core, life would be much easier.  Perhaps less mystical.

The unwritten paragraph haunts me with its promise.  Does it know I’m not ready to fulfil it?

Please feel me

Please grasp me

Please see me through the maze of you own perception

How do I know you touch me

Not distorted

Make me valid

Let me see in your eyes

The truth of who I am

M. M.