Work Text:
unwelcome miracles.
i.
the bed is soft
and within its blankets
there is warmth
though not a comfort
rather
a blaring reminder of absence
ii.
in the abandoned mug
the one with angel wings
the cocoa is always steaming
the taste is rich and deeply unsatisfying
iii.
an anticipatory roar of the engine
fails to ignite even the slightest
desire
to go fast again
neglect.
and so the life around him wilts
the colors ebb into gray
light refocuses elsewhere
and hunger slithers close again
pollutant.
hands are cold
without the promise to touch
listless and without purpose
eyes empty and tired
unwilling to spark
swollen shut with sullen, stubborn tears
meager symbols of the infernal darkness
inevitably oozing out
for them to see
contaminating everything