I don't want to sound the alarm on my loneliness.
It feels risky like announcing hunger when what
    I really want is my favorite food.
If you're hungry they want you grateful for anything.
But cravings are so specific.
The chance of a kind stranger offering
    the ache of your heart to you
    on a platter.

I am on a different planet.
The plants here are strange and none taste like home.

They say I can never go back.
Even if I went to that space
    time has stripped away the familiar.
I have been under sleep.
I have been buried.

There is so little space here.
I am not small, and I don't know who could fit next to me.

I don't want to sound the alarm.
I want to be a secret.
I want to whisper coded words into clouds.
I want to pray and be heard.