Perfectly Lonely

There isn’t really a name for it, but it’s the kind of thing where you can hear the sound of crickets inside of your heart, where it’s been so long, so vacant that the only footsteps you can hear in there are your own and although it’s lonely, it’s somewhat comforting too, because no one can get inside without your permission, no one can break your insides without you letting them pass through. It’s the kind the thing where you would rather take solace in yourself than ever letting that happen again.