I swirl the idea of you through my brain like wine.
Your flavor lingers – biting and irresistible.
Our mouths never met
but I know how they’d feel.

This heady wine.
This crazy, far-fetched wine.
There’s no sense to the promises I’m willing to believe.
What I’m willing to do.
I’ll NEVER admit that I did it just for wine.
I’ll never do it just for wine.
I’ll think about wine and you and fireplaces and book nights.
And those thoughts certainly ease the way for decisions about wine.
Without wine of course.

This entry was posted in creative, love, personal, Poem, writing and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Wine

  1. rachel says:

    I love this

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