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The older I get,

I realize 

I’ll have my wine 

like I have my soul,

red, raw,

dry,

bitter…

bitter like the aftertaste 

I’ll leave in your mouth

right after you tell me

you love me

right before you realize you made a mistake 

and leave me…

I am everybody’s fool

I am bottled up and 

kept on the shelf,

like a cheap champagne, 

ready for just the right

in-between lovers moment,

made for a temporary love

to both remember fondly 

and regret…

I am a bookmark, 

a lapse in the music, 

I am everybody’s fool, 

and I am bitter. 

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