Merlot

The complexity between wanting so desperately to be alone, yet for some reason feeling absolutely lonely.

Drip, drop

goes the Merlot.

love in a

glass

providing me with

it’s red

fragrant

cheap

velvety

radiance.

it ignites a raging fire,

a much-needed

warmth,

whenever my heart finds

itself

frostbitten

again.

 

the tears I’ve not shed

have not disappeared

quite yet.

I still feel them there,

churning,

behind my tired eyes.

they are

trying their best to push

themselves forward and

out.

but they do not

drip down, for I do not 

let them

fall 

anymore.

I’m holding them in

for now,

ignoring their 

plea.

 

I’ve learned to accept their

burning persistence, but

have not

given

in

quite yet.

 

embracing the solitude

that I’ve put upon

myself

in the small, sterile

white room for only one.

$450 a month.

no TV nor

hot stove,

yet

no one to

bother me

anymore.

alone,

at last.

 

alone in the morning

at noon

at dawn

in the twilight.

just me and my warmth

and my books

and my

persistent, nagging,

unshed,

tears.

 

I thought I would like it

better

this way.

 

and perhaps,

I do.

and perhaps,

I might.

 

or perhaps,

this will never,

can never,

replicate

the comforting

strong

loving

arms

that were once around my

waist

at

midnight.

Reviews

[rutherford]

Another excellent write. The power of the words stand out so much on their own lines. Lonely backdrop and strong feelings add to its power. Also reminded me of a time alone in my apartment after a difficult period.

[_mal]

This is stunning, you write so clearly and beautifully and take the reader to many parts of another persons secret world

[Kelly A. Brown]

Thank you very much. :)