His name is the aftertaste
Of slowly sipped red wine
Trying to forget the feeling
Of being in love and vulnerable
Knowing your heart
Could shatter into a thousand pieces
At the mercy of a few words
His touch is old love renewed
Soft and dangerous
The kind of thrill that makes you nostalgic
A thousand heartbreaks
Dug up and re-brewed
His lips taste as bitter as old love
And as sweet as the memories
That with it came along
And gently they kiss you
like the way he’d hold fragile glass
Determined to not press too firmly
Causing you to shatter in his grasp
He’s the impossible kind of love
That never forgets you
no matter how long
or far
or stubborn
or dumb
He’s the kind of drunk
That’s hangs over the next morning
And pounds at your head
With memories of relentless love
Hoping you’ll find him in your bed
