I woke up this morning and made myself tea,
put on a good song and danced around free.
The sun hit the window, the moment felt right,
I thought to myself, I could get used to this light.

I called up a friend, left a message, felt proud.
I laughed at a joke and I laughed kind of loud.
I crossed off a thing that had sat on my list.
I thought, look at me, look at all that I missed.

The afternoon came with a quieter tone.
I noticed the song had stopped. I was alone.
I made a small joke but there was no one to hear.
I left it just hanging there, floating, unclear.

I scrolled for a while through the lives of the rest,
the couples, the birthdays, the people who blessed
their ordinary Tuesdays with someone to hold.
I closed the app quickly. The tea had gone cold.

The evening arrived like it always arrives,
with all of its evidence of other people's lives
leaking through windows and walls and the street.
I turned on the TV to cover the beat

of a silence so steady it started to hum,
a frequency only the lonely become
fluent in, late in the day, in the dark,
when the fun of the morning feels far and remarks

you made to yourself in the kitchen at nine
sound less like a person and more like a sign
that the walls are the audience, patient and still,
and the dancing was always for no one to fill.

But honestly, truly, I'm doing just fine.