The Man of Wine.
~? ? ?~
I was at dinner one night.
Playing my gig.
Singing my song to the strumming of the acoustic.
My world was perfect.
The room was full of murmuring,
Fresh food wafting through the air,
Lovers, friends, my life.
I looked up and saw him, the man.
Tall, skinny, peculiar,
Hair as black as tar,
Eyes as deep as the night.
A glass of scarlet-red wine between his finger tips.
He stood up after I was done,
He approached me.
The man had been here before,
He always watched me, smirking.
Now he drew near.
The longer we talked,
The more I was falling for his lust.
His voice wrapped around me like a silk scarf,
Tangling me, pulling me in.
Another sip of scarlet- red wine.
He asked me about the back room.
I showed him.
Once there, I was exposed.
He pulled me close and kissed me.
I was officially his.
His lips tasted of scarlet-red wine…
He took me to his layer,
A dark home in the woods.
The door closed.
He pinned me against the wall,
Kissing me rough,
Soft moans escaping my lips,
He was tarring my dress.
The air smelled of scarlet-red wine..
With one scream,
A pure white dove flew out,
Our passionate kisses still going into the night.
The taste of wine dancing in my mouth….
With one moan,
One kiss, I was out.
How I loved the taste of the scarlet-red wine from his lips...
I was left in the woods,
Alone and bare.
The dove he had…
My heart he stole…
Keep a hold of your innocence…
And be aware of men…
With scarlet-red wine upon their lips ?
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