Fleeting are the thoughts.
We once thought naught;
Tugging us along clouds,
With silver lining strands.
Words uttered belie
Locking of our eyes;
So intense,
That pulling away scorches.
A sip of the wine,
Hoping it would erase,
The sensations
Ceasing the confusions.
Burning the heart,
Like a candle to its wick;
Marring the silent
Room, is denial's insistent knock.
And dreams,
Now feature you;
And the sadness
Of realization unreal.
Copyright © WinePoetess 2017
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