Wine

I sit alone, lonely,

the evening breeze dancing around my thighs, underneath the dress you loved on me,

flickering candles caressing my pale skin,

empty glasses of wine on empty tables.

I sit alone, lonely,

and I watch the city fall asleep on this sunday evening,

I watch lovers kiss goodbye

and broken hearts run home to their mothers;

for there is nothing a mother can not fix,

but I wonder why it had to be broken in the first place.

I sit alone, lonely,

the waiter kindly reminds me that they are closing,

I nodd, hanging onto my glass of wine,

almost empty,

but still there;

you see, I hang onto the sweet taste of love

and the bitterness which hides underneath your eyelids;

I remember your words, vividly,

and the way your fingertips danced upon my thighs

and the dazzling light of our veranda flickered upon my skin.

I sit alone, lonely,

the last sip of wine;

I see the blurred picture of you,

reaching for me, now.

Empty glass of wine,

but your lips against mine;

a familiar taste.

Jehona Thaqi©

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12 thoughts on “Wine

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