solitude
creeps into every crevice
of the room
as soon as night sets in –
the sheen of light
from distant windows
blinds
with promises
of what others have –
the muffled
next-door noises
hurt –
the internet
scars –
the wine promises
more
than it delivers –
there is no balm
for solitude –
its infective nature
cannot
be cured
except
one way –