Ruin-er

Sadness ruins a good meal?
He is sat, hunched. Straight?
These sensations travel
the crevices of his mouth
till he notices the grain
of sadness making out
with his tongue
and teeth
and inner cheek.
His meal is ruined.

Sadness ruins a good smile?
Face stretched and the lips curve
from the weight of the frozen clouds.
Curved, these fragments of brokenness
ski down these slopes formed of
grey frozen clouds, hanging on striving hearts.
Their skis are rough on these curved lips.

Sadness ruins a good pillow.
Fresh cotton lick hardened cheek
filling nerves with the whispers of, “rest”.
Then eyes, roughened by today, mine from the pointed toes,
oceans. Till a heart’s content abseil down the side of my face
to fill these tender pillows.
They look like miniature waterfalls today.

Wet pillows offer no comfort.

Ruined.

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