Lonesome

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I think of how I feel today

I’m thinking about a word

It pops up in my head:

“LONESOME”

I write it out, saying it aloud

I turn it over: in my mouth, in my mind.

There is something about it

That doesn’t seem to quite fit

Like I have been given a name-tag,

Without anything to make it stick

But what is it about words

And how they may fail

To sufficiently mirror feeling

Is it the thought of the meaninglessness

Of symbols intended to convey meaning?

Is it the laziness of the heart,

To connect to meaning in the brain?

Is it just the weight of the feeling;

Stifling cognition,

Trifling with dearly beloved words?