Nothing mixes well with sorrows

I drown in the glass of wish-key

hoping you show face in dance

of hops that burn the silence

of love diluting love with kisses.

I long for another day in the offing

when the sailors return home

from a career abroad as if a bird

has come as a harbinger of love-luck

but loveless I long for another drowing

of a glass of wish-key with hope

of seeing your face dancing on

my mind lip-locked in speech

that is silver than sluggish slipping

of tongue casts your name as Celopetra

of long shadows cast on the wall

with the last swig of whiskey on the

hopes of good cape rolled around

And you turn your face towards me

and all is left is a pair of eyes

matching the chance of skittles.


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