Red Wine

Broken lips,

wounds filled with the red liquid.

Biting, sour and yet so coarse.

My anxiety Just wanted to taste it : to lick it..

The sourness, trobbing in my blood..

One sip just seemed to be enough,

deciced my thoughts; losing their faith of being though,

My eyes: they color the red from the treacherous blood.

Numbness of the reality, causing my life to be faraway from being good..

After all, my body shakes from the need to a fortitude.

I know my lips are never prepared and the wine likes to be so rude..

So rude in the ignition and pain.. Living as a disaster in my blood.

I close my eyes and I know it’s too late..

Losing my breath, my heart and my faith..

Losing the ability to forget.

Losing my life to see it shed…


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