The clinical glow from the television.
The still ambiance of dim globes.
It sets on his skin,creating a contrast.
Too inadequate for another eye to notice.
Eyes that create a muddy puddle to reflect mine.
Eyes that hold me so gently amongst my surroundings.
They help me forget,help me sleep the way I do.
There's no hell here,no pain.
Slow steady breathing,slow beating,placid thoughts.
Barely awake,eyes half shut,my eyelashes make home for a soft haze.
There's something about this moment,this feeling.
I'm at home,literally,metaphorically.
I'm at home.
I like the lack of format or direct narreative, it's somewhat darkly enchanting. Thankyou Mimirose Lorraway
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