Isolation

I want to be completely alone,
my husband and children gone.
I want to live inside my bed.
And turn my TV on.

To be surrounded with my blankets,
my books, my snacks, my tea.
For one God forsaken day.
I only want to be with me.

No calls, no friends, no attitudes.
No complex emotional problems.
To be alone, to feel what I feel,
to be unashamedly solemn.

To pour out my words from a gallon,
which was recently bone dry.
To sleep for hours, then continue writing.
I’d rather do that than cry.

I feel like Lilo and the pickle jar
when she does voodoo on her friends.
A ritual to do anything,
to see this through till it ends.

Blessed are the long suffering.
Dear God, I’ve had enough.
I’m starting to see the people around me
know nothing about my love.

I’m terrible at expressing myself,
I talk with attitude.
Why do they not seek to understand me?
I do it for all of you.

Maybe I deserve isolation,
maybe I will reflect.
So when a good thing comes around,
I can appreciate what’s next.