Sunrise Wine
It's a little bit past 4.00 amand here I am again,
coffee stains and
food remains
cluttered heart
and dishes.
The fabric feels
so coarse and rough
as muddled love
become so tough
and who'd believe
I'd still be here
It's 5.00 am
as ruby glows
in cut glass stem
I haven't drunk
I haven't fed
the sheets are bare
its cold out there
and in my bed
lay crushed
rose petals, sprinkled
when the stars
still twinkled in
night skies.
It's 6.00 am, I count
the ticks, my eyes
are glazed so
tired of tricks
your early light
has flickered out
another night
spent wasting time
incautious love
in sunrise wine.
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2021-05-14 at 17:45
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