merlot leaked from my neck
white fog clouding my vision
my chest tightened
i fought back
the urge to fight
and greeted the night
which exploded
into blinding white light

I'm sipping of my dream of you.
Remembering how deeply we
looked into each other's souls.
I felt your heart inside of mine,
When we were first together that October night.

I had merlot, and you the king of beers;
if we had an audience, they would all stand and cheer.
The heat between us was pure magic, the elements
of the universe sang our love song.
How ***** of you, to slip me your tongue.

My imagination took over me, and
my dream of you came abundantly…clear.
That I would see you again, in another year.

She sets down
her very large glass of Malbec
sighs and lights
a poorly rolled
******-like cigarette
the look on her face
bothers me deeply
I open my mouth
with good intentions
and probably should have
said something like
"Are you ok?"
but what came out
went something like
You are nothing to me
just an **** potato
there's almost nothing
that you could provoke
within anyone
except for the cats
Yeah,
I'd bet you could start
the feline revolution
with your poisoned toenails
and mashed carrots
not even seventeen vats of ****
could make you more slippery
No,
I don't want your wet cake
just bees,
endless mayonnaise
and cherry flavoured toxic yoghurt

Raise your glasses high,
tonight we won’t cry,
the wine is pouring,
and my love is at home, mourning.
Next round is on me,
we’ll get more drunk than sailors at the sea,
just drink from your wooden tankard,
until everything around is blurred.
Let me hear you cheer,
spaced-out from ***, wine and beer.
This is our last night,
next day we march to fight.
Now, let’s dine,
cause tomorrow by this time,
we’ll be dead,
and our clothes will be red,
like this delicious crimson wine.

Another glass of wine, to silence the silence speaking within my mind.

Another laugh... Another whine, these ten thousand thoughts, and their sweet sorrows; I claim as mine.

Another glass of wine, for these wounds shall be slow to close with time. Numb me, by the virtue of the Vine; liberate my heart of the bitterness of Lime; baptise me, as yet another glass of wine; I claim as mine.

As high as her heels
Son of Dionysus
Red wine soaked thrills
Through a quarter life crisis

She tells me her name
I'll never remember
For flesh, for fame
For love dismembered

Her candy-coated nose
It burns like mine
Petals fall from the rose
Onto her spine

she is a wine personified,
and without patience,
one can never grasp
how better she gets through time

She told me over dinner one evening
that I should switch to white wine—
less tannins and calories, she claimed.

I smiled and shook my head,
a vintage cabernet stubbornly clinging
to my bleached white teeth.

The next day I found a couple bottles
of chardonnay chilled in the fridge,
a note tethered to one’s neck:
Drink Me!

I did not.
Four months later,
we signed divorce papers;
she packed her things and left.

I drank the chardonnay that last night,
dizzied by the herringbone pattern
of the old parquet floor, and wondered
what would happen if I ate our frozen cake top.