I could not leave the kiss on the tip of glass she drank
from that night, now years out of date, red lips staining the rim with crimson
as vivid as blood, and maybe as sweet,
I could not leave this kiss to sit on the tip of it, to
linger there unacknowledged, knowing it would be a
Draught far more potent than beer or wine, an unaccepted
invitation I could not resist, my lips ached to sip from where hers had sipped,
I could not resist, could not let that kiss sit, when my lips ached to sip
hers, for a taste much sweeter than wine
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