Visitors

I have to get dressed

in case someone might call

although the likelihood

of that is quite small.

A part of me thinks

that they still care

and will come see me

once they have

a moment to spare.

But deep down I know

that this is not the truth

for I am not the same person

I was in my youth.

Now I find it hard to

look anyone in the eye

and when involved in

conversation I get tongue tied.

Sitting here waiting for

my non-existent visitors,

my home is a prison and

I am its sole prisoner.

selective focus photography of closed signage
Photo by Tim Mossholder on Pexels.com

 

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