Another year of you,
and the bitterness
never ends.

Another thirst for
pieces of youth,
but still I remain
vigilant.

You who are me,
and I who are you.
Sadley and tragically
we are doomed to face
truth.

Red was her name,
and jagged were her lips,
but she promised you
love.

Slowly the soothe sayers
said that the nay sayers
were truthfully in
their verses of your fate.

Bread and wine
mix so well,
but you dilute your
oath with her soft lips.

She is your end,
and I am your means.
But in the end death
is the concubine we all
share in the conculsion.

05/31/2008

Posted on 05/31/2008
Copyright © 2025 Christopher Shin