Sam Hendrian

I’m good at being alone
Except after 6 PM
When the sun abandons me
And the moon hides its picky eyes.

Suddenly it seems like a crime
Not to be with someone,
Not to be held tight
During the darkest parts of the night.

Too early to escape into dreams
So I manufacture dreams of my own
With the aid of rock star medication,
The kind that strengthens then poisons.

Then in the morning I shake my head
Wondering how I expect to get ahead
If I keep deflecting temporary endless pain
Through endless temporary pleasure.

But once evening returns to its post
I remember every logically illogical excuse
For perpetrating vacant charms
‘Til I’m resting in somebody’s arms.

Sam Hendrian is a Los Angeles-based filmmaker, poet, and playwright striving to foster empathy through art. From writing personalized poems for passersby outside of LA’s oldest independent bookstore every Sunday to making Chaplin-esque silent films about loneliness and human connection once a month, Sam lives to make other people feel seen and validated. More poems and films can be found on Instagram at @samhendrian143.

This poem appeared in What We Hold On To: Poems of Coping, Connection, and Carrying On — Winter 2026, published by The Chaos Section Poetry Project. We’ll be featuring each poem from the collection individually in the weeks ahead. You can read the full collection or download a free PDF of the chapbook here.