the hangover and the memory of

“Now I am sober and there’s only the hangover and the memory of love.” –Jalal ad-Din Rumi

I have drunk myself

On the wine of Love;
Filled my cup o'er,
'till there be no room for more.

And I have quaffed this brew
In its entirety, so that it may
Coat the lining of my soul.

Again and again I raised my cup;
Again and again I drained it.

And each time,
I said a toast to you.

Deeper into my cups
I gently went, buoyed
By the fermentation
Of my heart.

Each sip was sweeter
Than the one before, and
With each sip, with each taste
Of this elixir, the more intoxicated
I became.

I spent my nights"
And each and every day"
Imbibing every aspect
Of your perfection.

Nothing else could quench my thirst,
But that most special draught
Made from the light in your eyes,
And my heart's inebriated song.

But alas, I drank too deep;
Alas, I drank too long;
For I fell into a stupor, then,
And you vanished e'er I woke.

My head pounds,
My heart aches,
My mouth is dry.

I long for a taste of that draught
Which I remember, the ambrosia
That flooded across my being
With every sip I took.

But now my cup is empty,
And now my heart is dry.

For I have woken with a hangover,
And only the memory of your sweet lips.

Reviews

[Adam :P]

i like it, i love the writing, i'm not talented enough in grammar to know how to write like that, but anyways, good poem!