Wine Has No Color

My legs were no longer in my command–I could not move;

Love ethereally reached my soul, seducing life through.

Every passing night, when the stars daintily dance,

You make me fine wine– ‘I shall not take any chance!’

Upon drinking, you sing songs from Heaven–

I sleep, never past night’s deep strokes of eleven.

Why must I not see your lively summer eyes?

I merely nourish upon your pure disguise.

‘Go to Heaven’s final home, sleep,’ you whisper–

I spend these long days worshipping your soil-fought eyes.

Viciously drunken upon your reflection I convert,

My God, these are living in the highest clouds–

Your angelic head…your fury-showered corpse on that ground.

Why did you poison me–bring another man,

You were my Life’s purpose, the roamer in my grand heart’s land.

I beheld my eyes upon your murderer–

The Devil; you chose him–foolish lover.

I grasped his hem with Life’s mighty sword,

Only God knows what was coming forward.

Look at me in these dead-colored eyes;

Open those windows! Like life, your departure will be ephemeral…