I’ve always had faith
in sweet red wine,
black ink pens,
and teddy bears
a way to lessen the sting
of lonely nights.
Until now, I never realized
how isolation sustained me.
Blackened out and pale,
I was safely transparent.
At night, I slept
with the door
tightly closed
and those encounters
with death,
bleeding poetry
until I couldn’t move,
kept me alive.