Whispered Wanderings

“I don’t know what I can say,”
said the glass of wine as I drank.
“You come to me for answers
that I’ll never be able to give you.”
I’m sorry, I say. It’s just that I don’t
want to think tonight. I’m not okay,
I say. And there are no answers.
I’m seeking solace in a temporary
uncaring, is all. This you should
know, I say; setting down my empty
glass.

klm
6/9/24