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Wine!
He reminds me of the wine,
Cold and dark!
A smell so profound
And irresistible as it is.
Drops of him, bittersweet,
And on enough of him served,
I struggle with where I'm set
And alas, breaks the glass!
He then reaches for the floor,
Where he carries me in pieces,
Yet as a whole.
And leads me to a terrain
Where my feet wouldn't stand
And curves wouldn't stop
For the festival it is
With merely any cessations!


© Neena Baby Mundackal