I went to her,
casually asked,
"What are you writing?"
Her stoic figure screams ennui,
I felt like talking to a wall.
Guess I'm all alone
tonight
with my glass filled
with wine
She took her leave,
tossing my glass
away for no reason.
B r o k e n fragments
mirrors my heart
I really need a drink!
Disheveled my hair
In annoyance.
I went for a search,
ventured through
the basement's
dim-in-sadness cellar wall.
There are no ghosts,
but memories haunt,
a lame quibble to reason,
That I am a lost soul
wandering 'til I forgot
what to search?
Brooding over sweet words,
the hot chocolate drink
became cold black coffee;
with tablespoons of wine,
I found one!
Smiled bitterly as I read the writing.
'Twas her favorite wine
I wanna taste
To stand her reason,
She might scold me
for stealing a bottle to drink -
Halfway emptying the bottle
I started writing.
My thoughts, my feelings,
My apologies for the wine.
Thinking about my flaws
and deeper search
On how to fill up our gaps
when we're separated by wall.
It's been a week
since I passed out
from my night drink,
I received an hour of sermon
knowing I took her wine.
Better than being reticent,
ascending her high-built wall,
I'm perplexed but explored
her world just to search
Her Purpose
Making countless poetry,
Why writing?
To express but uses idioms,
For what reason?
Secrete the secrets about life,
stock selves of cask wine,
Scarred, sundered hearts search
Sanz beauté,
Sanz cerveau,
Sanz cœur,
Sanz âme,
Sanz reason!
Sighing for love,
A kiss of death,
Writhing while writing.
Signed, sealed and delivered
a certain contract posted the wall,
Shifting the burden of proof;
telling that night I was in the drink.
Misery loves company,
I have none, so I search,
Then found a pen,
along with myself,
my place in writing,
An empty piece of paper,
I need an ink and a drink.
Cheers to a disastrous attempt!
Pleasing the ears of the wall
Whose entertainment is my downfall,
a rhyme or reason,
Degraded to disgrace,
never rained but pours tears
that turned to wine.
Gone are the nights
I drink bottles of wine
I'm done trying to search
for a million reasons:
When obviously the writing
is on the wall.
