One empty. One full.

That bottle of red wine-
the one we saved for a rainy day,
a sexy hour,
a dim light,
that bottle that turned me on.
It floated far from my mind,
holding imaginary love notes,
but it’s only a bottle of old grapes
to get me tipsy,
inspire a little poetry.
Two glasses left empty
proved it all phony,
left a lonely bottle on a dark
pantry shelf collecting dust.
I feel alone
tonight,but began to drink it by myself.