I can feel the bruising in my mouth. The roof of my mouth aches. It’s a dull ache, tormented by my tongue – which really should know better. The ache is derived from a remedy. The need to suck throat lozengers. The attempt to inhibit a lung spasm cough. The hope to gain sleep.
With a desperation born of exhaustion I suck hard on that candy wrapped lozenge of hope. Increasing the pressure to encourage saliva, to swallow and coat a raw and torn exit that my lungs are using to expel their conjestion.
I can feel the bruising in my mouth.