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Poem

Some nights I need a second glass of wine
Here we are poised like vultures on a limb
internal yearnings turn thin fog as we dine.

My mouth stutters as it runs ahead of my confusion
proximity to his powerful aura is a chink in my armor
in his shadow my own worth seems an illusion.

His pale eyes can become cold as glacier
pupils shrink like blackbirds chasing a horizon
to restore a mantle of invincibility my sole prayer.

To nourish my soul with expectations is disappointing
I only feel as conspicuous as a fly on a wedding cake
wishing for solace listening to a song is frustrating.

Now I need not a glass but a bottle of wine
with the edges of the room veiled in darkness
struggling to be formidable will be easy and fine.



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