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Cyndy Bonilla

Loneliness

Loneliness is an empty room

dust floating in the air,

books piled on top of a rusty shelf

flies and ants dead in a corner—

The door locked— no one comes in or out

granite walls that have sharp cracks

echoes trapped and unable to escape

The white, blank space lines of journal on a

hard-scratched wooden table.

A glimpse of sun through the curtains but,

darkness pushes back.

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