Evening Sollace

It’s hard to watch the TV through swollen eyes.

Shaking hands make it hard to mute it, even when they're full of used tissues.

The sting of welling tears burns and then cools as the crisp tear strolls down my cheeks.

The droplets hang at the jaw line for a moment, until they become annoying and a violent scrub mops them away.

My fingers crawl up my face and stop at plump lips, stained from red wine kisses.

They've lost so much in the space of an hour.

The ability to utter stable words, now crumbling from a quivering mouth and the warm presence of another.

Thinking; I don't dare move.

There's solace in my saddened slumber. And here I shall stay.

 

 

(January 2018)