Loneliness is a mangy cur with foul breath and tendency to urinate on the furniture. It doesn’t matter how many times I chase him away with a broom, he lurks in the undergrowth breathing heavily and attempting to slink inside whenever he can.
He stands over me late at night and whispers dark thoughts in my ear, sending me fearful dreams of dying alone on a mountaintop, the snowflakes falling on my face my only companions.
Loneliness fights a dirty war of rushing sorties and sneak attacks , ever hopeful that his persistence will be enough.
I don’t think so.