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There you are,
The love of my life.
Sitting on the table
Next to my knife.
I pick you up and take a drink.

Each sip from you,
Each swig of your magic potion,
Washes away my worries,
My sorrow,
My pain.

But even you shall soon be gone,
And my thirst for you will grow greater still.
So I will be left with your neighbor,
With its sharp, shining blade,
And wonder if it can heal my hurt.

Can its pointed touch cure my ills?
For now I will cast that question aside
And spend my time with you.



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