Tag Archives: loneliness

World of Blue

Posted on May 21, 2026 by John Biscello

It was autumn, or late summer. She existed more than half her waking life in the coat-room she called home. At this palace of a department store—she, the coat-check girl, I, the elevator guy. It was a long time ago. … Continue reading →

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In a World of Blue

Posted on May 21, 2026 by John Biscello

It was autumn, or late summer. We met in the coat-room she called home for half her waking life. She, the coat-check girl, I, the elevator guy. We didn’t see ourselves as past-due or endangered then, but now, upon reflection… … Continue reading →

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Crumbs

Posted on December 16, 2025 by John Biscello

   That’s him , yeah. That’s right, every day, from late morning to dusk, he sits on that bench and waits for her. I don’t know who she was. His love who left him. Or died. Disappeared. There are all … Continue reading →

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Torch Song

Posted on December 12, 2025 by John Biscello

   She is there. She is always there, in the corridor. And she is lonely. This much I know. Lonely as a form of cold that you cannot cover with blankets or insulate against with coats and scarves and such. … Continue reading →

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Aria

Posted on August 9, 2022 by John Biscello

You are at a masquerade ball that takes place at Club Infinity, and you notice a lonely woman standing in the corner, her entire body breathes loneliness like strange music thickening the air, which in essence thickens the plot … … Continue reading →

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Girl, Flame

Posted on April 16, 2021 by John Biscello

She is there. She is always there, in the corridor. And she is lonely. This much I know. Lonely as a form of cold that you cannot cover with blankets or insulate against with coats and scarves and such. And … Continue reading →

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Opiate

Posted on July 15, 2018 by John Biscello

To touch loneliness, unabated, the barest cherish, play of smile running softly on meant fingers, to keep yourself company, all that lovely sweet nothingness, gauged in lofty opiate whispers, trailing, then silence.

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Endear

Posted on December 23, 2017 by John Biscello

Sometimes a word scratched in dark ink onto a page is the loneliest sound in the universe, and yet, what beautiful solitary company these verses endeared to mortal failings.

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One

Posted on October 29, 2017 by John Biscello

It used to be fun, time spent with invented friends– One plus none equals?    

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Flight Pattern

Posted on May 25, 2017 by John Biscello

He has peopled the world outside his window with decoys and delegates. They go where he cannot, they climb and scrabble and perch where he can only watch. The cage, you see, is more than just a symbolic prop. He … Continue reading →

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