Cunning Valentine

I like my songs low and sad,

Slow like how the wine swirls in the glass.

Deep and faintly fruity.

A representation of soul, or the attempt at having something close.

 

 

 

Falling fast,

With as little to no possible

time to think

Think, rethink and then overthink

Kill off the state of sanity with vanity.

 

 

 

Twisting, slipping away

While sipping from the glass.

Hiding behind it, hiding truth

 

 

 

Move closer and briefly touch me,

It’s never too much.

Clutch me like the glass,

Rely on it, rely on me

like this.

 

 

 

Hard love in this hard life.

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Something Sour

Sour grapes 
Just out of date

Used to make me feel
So unhappy and hard done by

Today, sour grapes 

Get me excited and happy

Although out of date and already processed,

Often smelling something strangely fragrant 

My new desire to save to drink and further consume 
Tells me the child I was has gone,

And yet I still drink from the bottle.