All we were
was the end of a moment
All we were
was spilled wine on the carpet
All we were
was lingering, fading, words never spoken
We should've been the start of time
But all we are is...

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, have a great July!


goodness is virtue
rage is essence when realization is new
hearts entrenched
them those called sensations melted a bench

memories tainted in dark
reminiscent somewhere in the background park
violins ached for the winter sky
on a hope it would just snow the ghosted July

their flesh burnt
mercurial whispers churned a hurt
dilapidates already fallen
feels of away returned from the stolen

wise in me I confess
to not believe a belong is a bless
visions confuse
perplexed deprived of a twinkle muse

my pen writes
then paper welcomes once and thrice
orchestra chimes
in time to spill the wine

                                                                                           ------ravenfeels

If one can be drunk on love,
I'd rather stay sober
than having headaches
and the wretched pain
of a hangover.

In an alternative universe
Two glasses clink together
Sauvignon Blanc paired with
Delicious garden picked
Raw ******* in moonlight
Smile stretching from
Sea all the way to sky

Arms wrap my expanse
Twinkle in your glance
As our eyes sleepily together
Watch the sun claim the sky
With birds lightly singing
A lullaby to drift away into
Champagne bubble dreaming

In an alternate universe
My dreams did bear fruit
Sweet from green lush vines
Aging with finesse like wine
Sometimes I go back to visit
Where sky collides with sea
To scribble letters into bottles

Letters you will never read

I read your lips,
stained red from the wine you tasted and drank in one go,
The words you say
So captivating and smooth like water flow

Your eyes scan the crowd
My heart fleeting as it meets mine
It glimmers like a lighthouse amongst the loud noise;
Scintillating, I wouldn’t dare forget that shine
Heated, It guides my presence to be closer to yours —  Restraint.
I could barely keep my poise

O’ How I long to be the center of your gaze
as it captures another,
I long yearn, yet knowing I cannot, to be your lover
I, aloof as I am, shutter away
No longer having a reason to stay
“... Perhaps, I’ll be given another day.”

We grew in this yard
in between the broken glass and dog ****
vine inches
minutes by hours by days
roots crept in an inconsistent soil
and growing despite

To arrive now with weekend garden centre eyes
you may see weakness in some leaves
that belies the truth of a fragile fruit
long nurtured from blood
and uncompromising viticulture

And if you try to claim the bouquet
or the legs on that glass
or the complexity of hard fought tannins
and subtle warmth
and lasting aftertaste

Then you will see us spit