Esmeralda Simon-Hernandez

Solace seems to slither in when it’s the last thing I want.
My tea grows cold, abandoned on a cluttered desk.

Our teas grow cold, on an abandoned windowsill, 
leave me to bask in your beauty & smile. 

Leaving me bathed in your beauty & smile,
curled up in bed like a dog ready for sleep. 

Curled up in bed feeling tired and beat:
for he was free as the ocean and rough as it too,

for I can be as free as the ocean and calm as it is too.
Searching through my notes to remember what I feel, 

scanning my notes to remember what's real.
Slip on my docs when heading out the door,

slip off my docs, turn the thumb, and lock the door.
Solace seems to slither in when it’s the last thing I want.