Cracks

The lights turn out and there it is.
The familiar face of my old nemesis;
loneliness.
Do I see a smile in the darkness?
Can a void laugh? I swear
I can hear it, in the silence
I hear the delicate cracking
of my porcelain soul
being held together
by the hope of
something I can't see,
something I can't hear,
something I think I can feel
drifting farther and farther away
every day after every day.
Just a little more pressure
and I fear I might shatter.
I can't, I don't think I can
hold the pieces in place
for much longer.
Hands shaking and only
half breathing
I continue to try,
no idea why.