It Always Comes Back

It always comes back to the ache in your chest,
the tears in your eyes,
the way your throat constricts.

It always comes back to holding that bear
that was given to you by a friend;
curling up in the fetal position
on the carpet floor.

It always comes back to that hug -
the one you didn't expect
that brings you to tears and you can't explain why.

It always comes back to being lonely.
To missing human contact:
a hug,
a kiss,
a touch.

It's not that you don't like being alone;
being alone is ok,
and sometimes is exactly what you need.
But it doesn't mean you like being lonely,
because it always comes back to this.