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by Jillian Spiridon 6 months ago in fact or fiction

I remember how it felt to be alone.

Image by lisa runnels from Pixabay

"she's not all that," they say behind me, soft,

but I hear them loud and clear like sirens.

what do I care, as I left them and scoffed,

dreaming up poems that may rival Byron's.


just like that I spend a season alone,

ignoring calls from all former besties.

my mom may tell me to pick up the phone,

but I say that I'm so much more at ease.


yet June bleeds to July in a trickle,

as I lose myself in book after book,

and I hate myself for being fickle

to miss the once-friend space, my special nook.


solitude summer, I do not miss you,

and so I'm not sorry to say adieu.

fact or fiction

Jillian Spiridon

just another writer with too many cats

twitter: @jillianspiridon

email: [email protected]

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