forlornness

My heart hurts when I see animals sitting on the windowsill outside their house all alone. Though the sun is shining and they’re curled up contently, I wish they had a friend. I like them in pairs. 

It’s a reflection on myself, I know. 

Always the second to enter the room. A follow up to their order at the coffee shop. A footstep behind the sidewalk. I prefer being led through life grazing fingertips with another. I have too many questions and uncertainties in my own company. 

I think too much about other people. Maybe that’s why I feel so seen all the time. But I’m writing this on the bus and an old man got off at the pub and now I’m wondering if he has friends there or if he’s all alone. I don’t want him to be alone. I want him to laugh tonight and forever.