"I am hearing poetry when awake, dreaming poetry when asleep, breathing poetry with each breath, I am living in a poem."

Saturday, November 28, 2009

A Bottle of Whine

Pressed from grapes of can’t forgive
And aged in a barrel of bitterness
A bottle of whine
Is poured from a caustic tongue
Into a goblet of won’t let go
Leaves one drunk on I can’t forget
With a hangover of nobody wants to hear it


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