I wonder if wine feels this way?
Sure, she's a chick who knows how to please
and the only way
she got there is through practice.
But did she want to be stomped in the first place?
There's a reason that the grapes are not 'caressed'
they were never taken to a bed
at least, not their first time,
and no body leaned in and whispered
It's okay
You don't have to be frightened,
I've got you
No
the grapes
they get pushed hard against the bathroom wall
and get told not to talk about it ever again.
Then the juice was sipped before mature
and since the cask was opened again and again
far too early
it started to rot
get bitter.
Only man that truly savored her
right on time,
he doesn't care if she's wine, grape, or juice
He just loves her
and she hates that she's intoxicating
I wonder if wine feels like this?
If it ever misses the grape.
Wow, this is the first time I have even mentioned alcohol and not had a panic attack. Especially considering the metaphor, I should be ripping out my hair right now. If I do fall into that, I'll write a couple poems! Panic attack poems are always the best.