Day Twenty-Three

I feel like the grey rain and the blue clouds and the moonless sky.
Even wearing my pink poncho doesn't heat up my heart.

It's not until I'm scrubbing the steel sink, and cooking a salty tuna pasta, and noticing the purple kitchen walls sweating with steam that I begin to relax, and feel warmer inside, like the ruby wine in the deep belly of the glass.

And now for the first time in days I'm going to bed before 10 o'clock to my two hot water bottles waiting. One small, brown silk, present from my sister. The other long, large hearted man, promising to stay awake until I get there.