Loneliness rests in the nook of Eve’s arm.

It is the crease opposing our elbow,

the indentation which evaporates

before our covered identifiers.

Pupils are cloaked

and uncloaked for amusements sake,

like gigantic


holy movie screens;

palettes of projected immortality.

The red velvet curtain ruffles up,

momentarily faking existence

before unfurling

with smooth




Loneliness is a beauty mark I had removed,

a cyst I nurtured night in and night out.


But early this morning,

beneath the unchanged darkness of dawn,

the two of us reunited.

The unremembered face,

the miserable mug,

the beast I so proudly defeated

cried into clasped hands beside me.

His tears watered the colorless upholstery

as I embraced him with every muscle in my body.

I dug the ends of my fingers into his tender back

and clutched his hollow spine.

For the first time in years

he appeared beautiful.


Forgotten loneliness is a lovely thing

when you’re driving home alone,

surrounded by the unchanged darkness of dawn.


by Cliff Weber


Cliff Weber is 25 years-old and lives in Los Angeles. He has self-published three books, Matzo Ball Soup, Jack Defeats Ron 100-64 and Remain Frantic, all available on lulu.com. His work has appeared in Adbusters, Out of Our, Beatdom, Bartleby Snopes and Burning Word, among others.

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