bitter sweet stains

bitter sweet stains

As we finger the rim at the edge of our glass
​we recall better days by the bottle,
Although there were times that we both could surpass
​there weren't many unlived at full throttle

The spice in our lives we now taste in the wine
pours bitter sweet stains on our pillow,
Two disgruntled grapes losing shape over time
​our old age having caused us to mellow

In wealth we depart a life we once lived
of rapture and endless assumption,
That art conquered all but the misery of sin
​kept for death by conspicuous consumption.