I lie here
alone in the darkness,
an empty goblet
in my hand,
with hazy brown eyes.
The taste of Merlot
swirls
in my mouth,
and my beating heart,
though numb,
hurts.
And through the wall,
I hear the static of television
next door
& I wish I were there,
lying next to her,
the single lady
with porcelain pale skin
I saw checking in
just before midnight.
I wonder if she feels
my quickened breathing
when I grip myself
in fantasy,
thinking of her
own loneliness.
(She is mine).