Blind Tasting

I love you. And why shouldn’t I?
You silence me and
color me in this tornado
of aromas
and when at it
you also quench my twirling soul.
I may not be much
to offer,
I may not be a blessing
in disguise
but I do care
more than those morsels of regret
we ingest at dawn
and the crumbs of temptation
locked in my hair.
No waste of words,
No sacrifice too painful
to be borne,
no demons
to feed
on our living flesh and bones.
Sanguine echoes
in this cup’s warmth,
on this square marble table
we are born.
And again.
And again.
Innumerable anticipation sighs
around us,
Dry lips redeem our sobbing
and our vintages
in front of a teary east wind.
Out-of-sight, never in vain,
we mirror our own reflection
behind a thirsty blackout
keeping us quietly in love.

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