I take my wine to swallow my regrets–
prescribed too late for pain, but not for sleep;
affliction sharpens memory and lets
my mind reject what soul decides to keep.
I share my wine with everyone I meet
within the consultations of my dreams
of soft inebriations which compete
for my affection even though it seems
that all my perfect flesh is still alone
in desperation’s comfortable embrace.
And though I should have kissed you, had I known
that this would be regret, I would replace
my wine with all my memories of you
and trade your kiss for all I ever knew.

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