a glass of wine

she loves
wine.
red or white.
doesn't matter.
warm
or on ice.
who cares about
the label or
where it's from.
the sound of a
bottle pouring
sets her
lips apart,
she can taste it
before it splashes
on her tongue.
she sinks
into the comfort
of it's soft
wash.
warming her
lungs, giving hope
to her
addled mind,
finally still,
almost content,
almost happy
in a blue sort
of way. she
exhales her tired
world
with her first glass
of wine.