Wine as red as lips are
pour into glasses of resolutions for the new year
empty promises, like drained goblets of liquid courage
there's not much that will change and I suppose the world knows it too
but we like pretending too-
much to quit it once the hand strikes 12
and cheers make us forget
that things will be the same again.
~
4.1.17
YOU ARE READING
Tasting Hearts
PoetryPoetic gibberish from a teenage logophile where a girl writes what her fingers tell her to on the skeleton of rhyme, rhythm and reason.
