As my heavy head hits the pillow in the dark,
and my palm feels for where you once lay,
I think of all the someones who have someone,
how I might be the only one who’s lonely tonight.
Then I remember my mother, unyielding.
How she said, "Freedom is a beautiful thing"—
How she warned not to be haste in love, or life.
So I revel in the solitude, before it slips away.