Glass and blood: The Hunger of the Over-eager Musician Part III

Here we go again! Just more and more clues to up your anticipation for the very last 'hunger' poem. I'll keep the series going until I feel like my relationship with this person is fully explained. I enjoy writing this series and about this person in gene

The fragments of glass

scrape their way down my throat

my blood drips from the corners of my mouth,

I am so thirsty,

I am so desperate

 

Wine red

spilled onto the floor supporting your short stature

you dropped the green bottle,

it shattered onto your feet

 

White bare feet of your's

soon became a darkened red

wine was not the only blood

in this puddle

 

The blood of grapes-

the blood of Christ!-

you say

and the blood of your body

expand onto the floor

why did that green bottle fall?

 

As you took a sip of the grapes' blood

I stood across from you

watching you preform this ritual

as the glass bottle pulled away from your view,

you saw my eyes

reflecting your's

they were as red as the wine

 

You prefer the blood of grapes,

rather than the glass

the blood has warmpth

and smooth textures

it replaces what you miss

 

So I eat the green glass

stained with your blood,

and the grapes' blood

it tastes so bitter, cold, and sharp;

exactly what I do not have in me. 

Author's Note

Still more unanswered questions!

Reviews

[Shadows of Sight]

This was good! I loved the flow and the imagery was great.

One little mispell i noticed... "warmpth", should be "warmth"

You keep getting better and better, as this series has gone on. Emotions are strong but subtle as the visions you paint takes us into your world.

Great Work!

[Wolfwind Words]

Visonary! the image of a man perfering wine to the blood of a woman! Thats what i saw in this.

Your imagery is so riviting, i love how each of these poems about the musician get more and more gripping

Keep up the wonderful work!