I feel
I am alone
in the world.

Alone in the world
is not
a feeling.

Okay.

I feel
vulnerable.

Vulnerable
to what?

I don’t know.

Harm?
Illness?
The world?

The stillness.
The empty places.
The lack of—

It hurts.

You said
you did not feel
this fear,
this concern,
when you had someone
who loved you.

But she was a woman,
and you believed
you were less
vulnerable
when this small woman
was in your life?

I never thought
about it.

I felt
whatever I
felt.

Uh, I mean—

I believed
harm
was more likely
after I became
alone,

and pain
became
greater.

Phobias
returned.

Unspoken fears
within social
spaces
came with
the loneliness.

Maybe
alone in the world
is not a feeling.

Maybe
it is what the body
calls danger
when no one
is near enough
to help it
endure.