RED WINE AND HENNESSY

The following poem was born out of a conversation I had “The Morning After”. A response to the poem was supposed to follow. However, the response never followed. There was a night where wine took on the characteristics of human behavior, but we lived to tell about it. We lived to laugh about it, and my dear friend said, “Red Wine and Hennessy”. At that moment, I invited him to share the male version, but as we wait for that response, here’s the beginning. I would love to have the other side. Please feel free to share your thoughts. I would also be interested in hearing interpretations.

Red Wine and Hennessy 

She fell out of her bottle when she fell into love, cup running over, overflowing emotions in glass- red stained pallet, on a pallet on the grass, to a quilt on the floor -affixed between lips and red lipstick on a shirt that he wore.

A familiar place, she knows she’s been here before

Reminiscent of the evening

On his shirt that she tore

…………

Drop by drop, puddle in glass getting lower- impressions in her gut, rim of her glass, hour glass figure moves counter clockwise – while absorbing the contents of merlot.

Hard liquor and fine wine.

………….

Red Wine and Hennessy

A wicked twist on some champagne tips

French nails, manicures over grapes

Whoever said wine and liquor don’t mix?

Last night I had six

Bottle caps, corks, bedazzled juice

Merlot was her name – slim waist – good taste slinger neck, red lace. Long stem, pedestal – hands embraced her face.

………….

Room temperature, her body temperature … personality of two, she’s mellow and chill…

Aged to perfection- pop the seal- watch the erection … splatters on the floor- covers the rug,

Residue of red lipstick

Merlot stained lips match the kiss on his neck.

…………

Chasing fantasy through the Red Sea

While chasing that with a white BC

How much will she pour- how much will she drink

How much more before her ship sinks?

………..

A full body lush, blackberry crush

Medium sized Bordeaux

Intense velvety plum

I asked her where she’s from

She said she’s international

She’s longer thinking rational.

……….

Sips in sync with blinking eyes

She sips too much to realize

Every time you pour into me, my bottle gets more empty-

Glass falling to the floor

She staggers to the door

Glass shatters her feet

She stumbles to her seat

She’s still asking for more

But she falls to the floor

Red lipstick in the mud

She covers up the blood.

…………

She lays in her wine

She forgot about the time

Clock on the wall

Footsteps in the hall

Pounding in her head

She rushes to the bed.

………

She lays motionless … but her head is racing

Her heart is pacing

Her lungs are gasping – air, she needs air

Rolls to her side, brings herself to sit up

She gags and gags until she throws it all up.

………..

Wakes up the next morning

Dazed and confused

She’s laying in a bed

That she’s not used to

She moves slowly, where did everyone go?

She checks the time- it’s a quarter past 4

Sounds on the other side of the door

Are Muffled by the sound of a knock at the door.

………..

Looks around for her little red dress

Notices a blotch – a red stain on her breast

Lipstick smeared, an accessory to her mess

She reached for her clothes and saw a note on the desk.

……….

Dearly beloved,

I want to see you again

I’d love to have you back

I think we make a great blend

I tried to wake you

Because I had to go

And

Oh, by the way, my name is merlot

Little Black Bird.

 

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This article was selected as one of the winners of the 2017 SheSavvy Spring Writing Contest.  Congrats Niedria!