A bottle of wine and an empty bed,
No stars in sight yet the moon solely watches…
-encumbered by guilt.
Its light has failed to uplift an old soul
Whose heart has been broken a hundred times or more.
The mirror shows a face drenched in sweetened tears.
And of parched lips.
I let myself partake of this wine that once embalmed by
thee.
As my empty bed becomes an altar,
I close my eyes, I let myself drown
With images of thee tracing my lips with thy fingers;
I let my consciousness fly.
I know I’ll be seeing a purple dragon wearing a crown…
-in my sleep, indeed! A bottle of wine is cruel friend.
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