Bitterness of Spilled Wine (Part 1)
For the first night in cloudy months
He managed to squeeze through the cracks of my mind
He runs ramped in my dreams
Yet again
He illuminates the broken spots
His lips of poison whisper beneath the sheets
He lingers in my heart shedding light on the cracks
His fingers are tortuous
For he rubs my cheek before he slaps it
But the sting is so sweet
The afternoon gloom awakens me
From the sweetest of nightmares
I close my eyes
In hopes I will dream of his bittersweet caress again.
Bitterness of spilled wine: The Stain (Part 2)
For the first night in cloudy months
He managed to squeeze through the cracks of my mind
He runs rampant in my dreams
Yet again
He illuminates the broken spots
His lips of poison whisper beneath the sheets
“I love you” between each peck “I love you”
But, I don’t love him
He lingers in my heart shedding light on the cracks
His fingers… tortuous
For he rubs my cheek before he slaps it
But the sting is so sweet
“Love, love isn’t real”
But he said…
The bitterness looms over us
A canopy of wasted time and broken promises
But occasionally
Right before I fall into a restless sleep
I can still see its marvelousness
And the intricacy
A display of love that’s not quite love
I plead with him to leave me to my own demise
I’m sure I can find it… on my own
A host I am for his parasite
He won’t fall off till he is full and my sleep disturbed
But the sensation
of his mouth in the crevasse of my neck
irreplaceable
The afternoon gloom awakens me
From the sweetest of nightmares
I close my eyes
In hopes I will dream of his bittersweet caress again.