I’ve spent the last 2 days speaking to a glass of wine.  She has many smudges and imperfections, and her deep gaze beckons me to think of her alone.  She only wishes one thing - to disappear into me and vanquish my thirst.  She knows better than I what is good for me and what is bad for me.  I know nothing.  Nothing at all.  I have only just learned to feel.  Knowledge is a much further horizon.   And as the stars surround my being I think about calling her, my glass.  What a thought.  A thought that ignites perhaps a nuclear explosion of actions and reactions.  I only have a few breaths to find myself now or I’m gone forever.   Looking away like her presence doesn’t exist in my chambers.  Every inch of her beauty stitched carefully into my heart, by the master seamstress with hands more steady than stone.
And so I look back, noticing how she’s gotten darker in her spirit over these past two days.  That’s what this life can do to you, even in the open air, and even while being caressed by my softest hands.  My heart has been aching for some time - For her, because of her, because of me.  Not the kind of ache that compliments tears but one that brings along with it still, coldness…