I’m listening to the music that makes me think of you,
and hope starts to spread uncontrollably,
like a glass of wine spilt of fresh cloth,
it seeps within me,
not vindictive,
but eager in its mission
to color the fabric red with
love, light, lust, hope,
and a little anger.
I’ll try to bleach it out,
keep it clean just for you.
I’ll package it up, throw on a bow,
and send it to you.