He took the glass and pressed it upon his rosy lips, drinking heavily the concoction made by angels. It fills him with joyous rapture yet he forgets when he drinks. The glass is empty, eyes lost and longing for a light to guide his way once more, another round is needed another drink.
A smile is all that is required to fill its contents, false promises of love bring life to his feet inspiring him to move and go about his day. But he will not smile anymore not for the benefit of the glass.
its been months….
My heart has taken a shape so grotesque that I wince when I look in the mirror. I drink from the glass at night filling up my mind with tranquility and bliss, for sleep is my solace. Yet in the day this energy is gone and I remain a weeping husk for the ages to look at me and wonder how I’m still moving.
Its getting stronger this terror on my heart with each pin prick I struggle to find a bandage to fix it. The weeping becomes normal due to the lack of love I feel in my heart. I am a fireplace that has been put out and have no-one to rekindle me.
For my heart still holds a flame for you.