She sat alone, the silence her only friend,
A life built on absence, on things left behind.
He knew that ache, the quiet that never ends,
The empty space, the constant, aching mind.

They found each other by chance, or maybe fate,
Two souls broken by the weight of years.
He smiled, unsure, unsure of being late
To trust, to let the past dissolve in tears.

"How long have you been... like this?" she asked,
A question simple, but so hard to voice.
He hesitated, his gaze shifting fast,
The word "alone" hanging in the noise.

"Too long," he said, his voice a quiet sigh,
"Long enough to forget what it feels like to share."


Her eyes softened, a kindred truth, no lie—
She knew that loneliness all too well, that stare.

They took their time, their words like fragile glass,
Filling the cracks they’d learned to hide with grace.


There were no promises, no rush to pass,
Just moments shared, an unspoken embrace.

It wasn’t easy—learning how to trust,
To open wounds that time had sealed so tight.
But in the quiet, together, they could adjust,
And somehow, for the first time, the world felt right.

One night, she spoke of days so cold and long,
Of an empty house, of echoes in the halls.
He told her of the days he’d felt so wrong,
Of memories that still haunted, still called.

And there, in their silence, they both knew,
That loneliness wasn’t all they could be.
Together, they were lonely—but with you,
Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t feel so free.

They didn’t need to say the words out loud,
But as their hands touched, it was clear as day—
They could be lonely, but not alone in the crowd,
Not anymore, not now, not in this way.