"The Shape of Lonely"
for when the world feels too quiet

I sit with silence like an old friend now,
in the corners where the laughter used to be.
Some days, I forget how full I was—
how loud love once echoed inside of me.

The rooms remember. The air still knows.
Even the mirror holds space for ghosts.
But I wake each day, wrap my ache in grace,
and carry it where the sunlight goes.

Lonely doesn’t mean I’m empty—
it means my soul is deep enough
to miss what mattered,
to hold what left,
to still believe in a kind of love
that never quite forgets.

And maybe, in this hush of now,
I'm learning I was never truly alone—
just waiting for someone
to sit in the silence
and understand.


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