Bitterness of Spilled Wine (A Poem)

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.