...just for you, especially.
because i know how you feel.
or don't.
i don't think you feel anything.
at least, not anymore.
----
and again,
more wine is spilt
and i have no desire to pour another glass.
you took your's,
and poured it into mine,
only to drink from it.
all the same--
and once, again
--your palate is whet
and my glass is empty,
save for but a few spare drops
that left your lips, carelessly,
to fall into such a shallow pool.
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