'third wheel'

That proverbial "third wheel" syndrome, 

a companion in solitude, 

lodges in the poet's heart, 

a feeling that clings like ivy

on a stone wall, 

never quite shaken off.

In crowded spaces, they feel distant, 

like an observer through a fogged glass, 

detached from love's tender embrace, 

while longing stirs

like autumn leaves in the wind.

The poet walks through bustling streets, 

the noise of conversations blending

into a distant wash of sound, 

the scent of blooming flowers

mixed with city smoke, 

creating a sensory tapestry

that enhances their isolation.

With each verse penned, 

they mark the ache, 

attempting to erase their alienation, 

finding solace in ink, 

crafting lines that intertwine

with their solitude, 

transforming isolation into art.

But in the quiet of the night, 

a realisation dawns, unexpected: 

solitude, once a shadow, 

becomes a sanctuary.

In the stillness, strength emerges, 

an epiphany: 

       the poet finds contentment

       in their own company, 

       discovering unique paths

       for this third wheel to follow.

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