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.