Monday, November 22, 2010

WINE


There were times

the only thing I longed to

was you,
now and then I sipped your wine
believing it was only mine.
How sweet was that poison.
Rising the glasses
we fought against the emptyness,
waiting the day to die
craving the night to become alive
and for more poisoned wine.

© Diana Mistera 22.11.2010

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