Aching Heart.

She poured her heart’s age old agony to my heart
like a bar-lady pours the aging wine in a sparkling new wine glass.
I looked at its colour, smelled it and swirled inside my mouth
before passing it through my throat.
Pain never gets transferred from mouth to mouth
but probably when you hold her hand in your hand.
Today keep my glass filled to brim O Enchanter!
I will drink till morning and till I empty your every decanter.

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