Tuesday, December 16, 2003
Sour wine for my sour soul.
The wine is red like my sorrow.
The wine warms my vacant chest, longing to warm something within me.
The wine relaxes me with hopes of revealing a more truer self.
The wine can be a connecter between friends in the midst of celebration of life, friendship and love.
The wine can turn against me and leave me with a pounding head ache as a reminder of it’s false friendship.
The wine is red like my sorrow.
The wine warms my vacant chest, longing to warm something within me.
The wine relaxes me with hopes of revealing a more truer self.
The wine can be a connecter between friends in the midst of celebration of life, friendship and love.
The wine can turn against me and leave me with a pounding head ache as a reminder of it’s false friendship.
