Moonbeam and red wine

And as the day is dying,
Fading slowly into night
The red wine caresses the sorrows
And soothes them into a dull pain,
Making them feel more bearable
And at the same time
Harder to bear.
Memories, swirl and eddy in the
Wine glass in my hand.
The music changes to something
Sad and melancholy,
And the words echo in the
Wine glass in my hand.
And the day is dying,
Fading slowly into the
Dark hours of night, the hours
Populated with demons
And ghouls, and memories
The haunt and taunt
And pass their frozen fingers
Slowly down the spine, all
Shivering in ice and the
Wine glass in my hand.
Peace shatters, and shards of
Pain are sent flying into the
Softest flesh of remembrance,
Whilst the day is slowly dying,
And its grief is dissolved in the
Wine glass in my hand.
And there is born a desire,
A wish that will not retreat,
To scream and cry, and most
Of all to lash out and slap
Those whose insensitive words
Belittle the pain that is held in the
Wine glass in my hand.

© 2ndwitch, 23/10/15