bitter harvest

bitter harvest

Lost in a bacchanalian frenzy,
I stumble through vineyards
long forgotten by most,
but still tended by my fragile ego.

You are that dangerous fertile soil,
the ground upon which my tears fall
and from which spring the sour gatherings
that intoxicate me beyond all reason.

Drunk on wine that flows from your skin,
I slather myself with the harvest,
shudder in a confused ecstasy
as grape leaves wind themselves
around tired limbs.

I would resist you, if I could.
I would destroy you. Ye gods, I should.
Yet, season after season I return,
to taste your wares and bathe in acid.

How I wish that you were sweet,
that you still carried sugar in your veins.
But you are tainted by my salty tears,
forever sown asunder by the plague of
your betrayal. I should tear you limb from limb.

I won’t.

Copyright © 2010 by Christopher Chaffin – All rights reserved

Advertisements

About cjchaffin

Wordsmithing is my passion. I eat, sleep, and breathe words and phrases, only to regurgitate them and pray that they are better off than when I first ingested them.
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s