The cork released, the bottle waved,
just below her nose. 2:10.
Bubbles tickle, a scent of pears
and citrus, the taste of summer.
Damn you, for making me wait, she
whispers. She smiles.
2:15, he said. He was never late.
The bottle set on ice, denying herself
the indulgence, preferring the sensation of want. Intoxicating.
Crisp and clear
an afternoon by the pool
Just a few minutes. Soon.
Breathless, with anticipation.
She said she would never wait,
The bottle shouts
into a space tainted by the dread
Colourless the air,
deep burgundy takes over. Malbec,
Clearing the mind.
She disappears into the evening
all she should not.
Night after night the bottle calls out
Damn you, she whispers to the stillness.
She accepts the reality, but not
As dawn approaches, time remains
shrouded in thoughts once ignored.
I can’t do this any more, she screams.
Nobody can hear, not even
© 2015 j.g. lewis
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