Screwed...

In a moment of evening solitude
He takes the box from the draw
Carefully slides it open, and unwraps that within

Feels the cool metal in his hand
He toys, turning it over, and around

He runs his fingers over its silken smoothness
Caressing it as a lover should
Following each sensuous curve
Slowly it warms to his touch, just as she

He tightens his grip as right thumb
Teases the patterned bumps beneath
Balanced to precision in his hand
It weighs heavy

Yet at this moment, his heart is heavier still

He applies pressure, slowly watching the mechanism turn
Pulling harder, harder
Until

Bang…..

The cork pops, and he pours the wine.