Monologues in solitude,
Are gardens of plenitude,
Increases of aptitude,
And amplitude of gratitude.
If it is irking you that we spend so much time alone, it is probably best you find someone closer to your social temperament.
We engage in such an internal monologue it would make you dizzy to listen. We’d make extroverts seem like mice, if only you could hear, if only you could tune in.
Granted, there are a few of you out there with such a vibrant frequency, you hear us, quiet as we may be, busy with out inner ball, you hear the noise, the music and the laughter you see the artistry. You enjoy us for who we are and in return, you receive an unrequited love. We’re drowning in our own swarm of felicitous calm and you allow us to continue on, undisturbed. How can we not love you back?
The gardens we frolic in are sagely and lavender embalmed, our intellect heightened merely from inhaling the scent until every cell in our body responds it a gratuitous love that has you begging for more of our silence.