symptoms of loneliness

the squirrels are strangely friendly to you.
the skeletons of winterbarren trees begin to reach out to you as you walk past.
the longing for a warm bath never ends, even when your fingertips prune and your hair sags against your face in the tub.
you start to understand the noises whales make.
the fly buzzing around your room is more comforting than you’d like.
you play catch with the falling leaves.
you can no longer feel the seam along the tip of the mismatched socks on your feet.
the cookies don’t soften in your tea.
you sit in front of the agave americana flower, waiting for it to open.
you hug your overheating laptop for warmth; its overworked sighs put you to sleep.
laying on the floor is better than the cushions, better than the bed.
you wake up for the sunrise; the sunrise wakes you up.
the dishes don’t pile up.
you hang your keychain out of your pocket so it can see the world.
your hands don’t shake when you light the candle on your bedside table; the smell is unfamiliar every time; the smoke never blows in your face.
the oranges aren’t sour anymore.