My Own Good Company

"How was the gallery?" she asked,

this morning, by the coffee pot.

I spun the tale, a little masked,

of what a fun day we had got.

"Oh, 'we' loved it," I brightly said,

and named a friend, a quick, small lie.

The quiet truth inside my head,

just me beneath that painted sky.

I walked the halls, alone and slow,

a private viewing, just for one.

Stopped at that piece, the one you know,

where all the colors blurred and spun.

I stood there, lost inside the frame,

no need for comments, shared ideas.

No whispered judgement, praise, or blame,

just my own company, no fears.

It felt like stealing something good,

that quiet, unobserved delight.

A solitude misunderstood

by those who think you need a light

from someone else, to make it bright.

And when I answered, "We had fun,"

I almost smiled, a secret, tight,

because I had. All by myself. Done.