We were born here, in this place,
in this fate, between right and wrong.
Touches felt, both cold and warm,
Daylight short and nights so long.
We danced, both hard and soft,
Lips pursed, glass between our fingers.
Taking sips from lips and wine,
A love so strong, the taste still lingers.
Each new step, both rough and tender,
Drank it dry, the fluid night.
But in the morning, can't remember
if the love was wrong or right.
The taste dissolved into the light.
Written 2.9.11 @ 12:40 PM