Passions in a Bottle

A poem taken from my tumblr working-for-writing

L.

Him.

My muse

Long lost to me.

My immense passion

I open this bottle in his name

I pour a glass in his honour

I sit alone in his dull absence

I become wilted out of his light

I drink more to feel whole.

He moves gracefully onward

Without my unskilled blunders

Without the aid of fine wine

That comforts my aching soul.

There is so much more to distract

But in this moment I forget it.

My sorrow becomes my life

For one dreary evening.

My passion comes in the form

Of an empty glass bottle

Of his finest and my worst.