he may not sing
the same song
as she,
yet hummed
his every
breath, only
to harmonize
with
her own

fill up my glass
let's converse for a while
the night is young
and still only beginning
red wine: the rose of water
sweetened an evening
for a lifetime
with every sip, reality fades
to a moment of virtue;
heaven is found
in light of the unexpected
we grew intoxicated
the taste of pleasure
never felt empty
for a glass of wine,
brought us a bottle
neither
will finish
without
the other.

His charm,
sharp as a knife
cut deep within wounds
        I,
   myself,
      am
    afraid
       to
     heal
To bruise is temporary;
but a scar left more permanent.