She thought love would age like wine,
Smooth and dark, a holy sign.
Gentle whispers, velvet skies,
But the truth came wrapped in lies.

The shadows fell, they did not ask,
His voice a sermon, a shattering mask.
His absence carved, sharp and deep,
A wound that woke her in her sleep.

She drank the night to drown his face,
To forget the silence, to erase the space.
But the glass broke sharp against her hand,
And the blood sang truths she couldn’t stand.

Healing came like a thief in the rain,
Soft as ash, a balm for pain.
A knock at the door, a touch so kind,
An old friend’s voice she thought she'd left behind.

She stopped the drinking, stopped the fall,
Her laugh returned, a hymn in the hall.
Her wrinkles spoke of battles won,
Each line a prayer to the rising sun.

Now she writes by a candle’s glow,
Her words are rivers, strong and slow.
She meets her gaze in the looking glass,
A woman who rose from the broken past.

She lifts her glass to the evening light,
To the love she lost, to the endless fight.
Bold and unbreakable, she stands alone,
Aged like wine, her spirit her throne.