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.
