The Lost Pages Of A Writer

Wine

                                                                                                 "Wine"

                                                                                                    ©By Emmauel López Méndez

Oh my bottle of wine—

you are the delicious cure of my melancholy illness.

The only thing that can clear everything of my tormented past ...

leaving it in the forgotten unknown blankness.

Thou delicious taste that I can't define—

heavenly taste that makes me divine.

The red lushest color of thou vitriolic liquor,

came from my marvelous blood of my veins.

Pure unholy blood from the kingdom of hate and romance—

coming out slowly in a smoother pleasing way.

Pouring my venom in a gently presence into my cup of glass,

so that I can enjoy drinking it to pass away into the forbidden lands.

 Forbidden lands where I can rest in peace,

surrounded by the beautiful garden of dispiritedness.

Adoring the view of the unhappiness weeping flowers,

flourishing the pedals of their dull heart in pieces .

 In deep sleep my heart shall remand by the glowers,

drowning in the deep lugubrious cheers of darkness .