Consoling isn’t easy.
Softening unpalatable factcan make you queasy.
Warmly, sweetly wielding tact
in face of your forlorn
companion’s certainty of doom –
for which he’s borne
inarguable evidence into the room
of your attempts at reassurance –
likely will not work.
His understandable abhorrence
of the optimistic jerk
and spasm of your reflex
to insist that it will be all right
is almost guaranteed to hex
you both into a sleepless night.
It may not matter what you talk about.
Presence helps the heart rebound.
That can have a little clout.
Just stick around.
.
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