A Shadow Situationship

It’s gotten to the point where

loneliness and grief

are my only friends.

My only lovers.

The only ones that hold me.

Even though their embrace feels like

electrified steel wool,

it’s a warmth I can get used to.

They at least genuinely check on me.

They ask me how I’m doing.

They text,

knowing I won’t text back,

though I might occasionally call.

They just show up.

They don’t expect much.

They hold space where they can.

It’s just that every time we embrace,

we multiply ourselves.

I lose more of me,

thinking more of them.

And so we merge

in the unholiest of sexual acts

with my own shadow.

Because in lonely touch, I feel.

And maybe it isn’t unholy after all.

Because sometimes God doesn’t answer.

But grief and loneliness?

she’s always there.

And there’s something to be said

about consistency.