The Intruder Who Loves Card Games

Most days, I fill the room just fine—
me, my music, my ink-stained hands,
painting silence into stories.
Company enough.

But then,
an intruder I didn’t invite
slips into the chair that isn’t there,
shuffling a deck of cards
like we’ve played this game for years.

Loneliness isn’t loud.
It doesn’t slam doors or demand tears.
It just sits,
waiting,
reminding me of old tables,
small gatherings,
laughter that once filled the air
like it was stitched into the walls.

And yet—
it isn’t always an ache.
Sometimes it’s a nudge,
a soft tap on the shoulder
saying,
“You’re human, remember?”

People see aloneness and assume emptiness.
But I’ve learned the two dance differently.
Still—
when the intruder cuts the deck
and deals me in,
I remember:
solitude is choice.
Loneliness… is just a guest
who doesn’t always knock.

With Grace & Ink,

Mai