Red Wine

a short poem inside of a longer piece of mine that is actually a song I wrote. enjoy.

Tic-tok goes the internal clock you

count down the days inside your head.

but time waits for no man no woman

no one, my dear

and the wine becomes too bitter when

it's left out in the sun, all

opened up.

it breathes too much. 

maybe that's us, my love.

Maybe, that's us, my love.