red wine melancholyDrinking alone,red wine melancholy
It's not the alcohol I'm addicted to,
The bottle's more than half empty
and I'm more than half full
of that red wine melancholy,
Every glass I drain
another colour I pluck,
Till I'm floating in monochrome,
Black and white fantasies
to grey scale horror stories,
Gliding on those broken wings again
scouring my heaving void,
Chase your butterfly silhouette,
Across the dirty blue emptiness,
To bruise your stain glass smile,
To see you sme
