You taste so good
manipulating my brain chemistry
to make me miserable,
doubtful,
unwell.
Despite strawberry, vanilla and chocolate notes
the skull on your label
paints the real picture,
not the words.

Cutting down to my bones
no skin to hide behind
I see old wounds still bleeding,
longing for care.
I forgot they were there,
I cannot see them without you.
Still, they bleed,
drops of red wine.