Solitude - 1 Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I was asked,
Late in the Sun, early in my death
What is loneliness?
I seek to go and find the answer,
In the lines of my palm,

The folds in my forehead
Resilient, gray hair hoisted far from my scalp
With the streaks of the Sun
Escalating towards my hands
That held nothing but cigarettes and bottles of stale liquor.

I have not found the answer,
In the fair complexion of the Sea,
Nor the crisp breeze during the morning.
However, I find that loneliness,
Cannot be consider as a whole,
For the treacherous afternoon, ominously wavering
In an empty banquet of lunch, where I hold
With my shaking hands, clattering

Spoon and fork on each hand,
With no woman to look at,
And how she masticates her food
How she eloquently brushes her hair
While she drinks a rusting bottle of soda.
Perhaps, this is loneliness.

But then, it is inane to conclude at this point,
For there is so much to tell about loneliness
Perhaps, it is when, at night
You writhe, and you pray
For something good to happen, a great perhaps
Because the days spin rapidly into mishaps.

Again, What is loneliness?
I fear, heaven may not forbid
Sweetly made conviction disenchants
What dreams I had in lucidity
And so if I may say,

Loneliness, is when I dream of you,
My musing, but in reality,
You have gone astray, without closing the door
With your impressions made on my bed,

I embrace it at night,
Only to feel the immense night stretch past the seas,
Past the buildings, past the streetlamps
Onto your windowpane, where I see you sleeping
Alas, I cannot hold your hand any longer than
A moment in November 3, six years apart from now

But I know I will go on as much as I can,
Until respiring feels like clutching my lungs
Wrenching my hands with the desolation I feel.
Perhaps, that is loneliness, I told myself

In front of the fractured, distorted image in the mirror.
Yet, the answer I had is incomplete
It lacks a breaking stench in it, the rancorous truth

Loneliness, what is it? Dare ask, pray tell child
Maybe loneliness is seeing you from a far, dear musing
With your luminescent skin glaring because the Sun,
Surrounds you in a shine that none of these eyes could

Ever suffice with just a blank stare and an empty heart
Loneliness is to not have you, in the wee hours of the afternoon
Where I skip my major classes not to spare some for myself
But to gather memories that didn’t last long
With all the fanciful people laughing under the Sun,

Dancing of the sounds made by the passing cars
I felt more and more alone,
As the pain stifled me once more, eating lunch with a friend
A friend that does not know how it feels

To feel the loss of not having you.
He knows what loneliness is, in the vaguest sense
I differ from the crowd.
I have known loneliness like a long, lost estranged wife.