Let me destroy this glass of wine.
Take it to heart
like a recurring insult
from the men that once ruled our lives.
The soap operas are almost done,
and I doubt you will have any need
for me tonight.
There is no darling to address,
but if I whisper enough times
perhaps the wind
could pick up my voice
and carry it to more accepting ears.
Let me find a way to last the night.
A touch of youth
amongst all of this decay,
the way lovers pile up
like sad songs and ***** laundry
in the back alley of my mind.
Let me finish this glass of wine.
After that, I will try something new.