Wine glass

I'm living like I am not alive
Wasting away with every breath
I was numb
But now I am just deaf
Don't leave me here...
Don't leave me here
To live in such desolate air
It filled up full
An overflowing cup  of the purest red wine
I touched my lips to the golden brim
And the liquid drained away
Gone from the air
A dead vapour
Many glasses full to the brim of wine
Scattered across the table
Yet none of them do I touch
The one I sought out has gone
Perhaps it simply jumped from sight when I blinked my eyes
Perhaps it clinked its uniquely golden wine glass clink
But I wouldn't know, would I?
For once I was numb
But now I am just deaf.

Reviews

[Arthur Crow]

Quite a fascinating spill of poetry… the wine here seems to be made up of various tastes and realms. I was glued from beginning to end. Much enjoyed!