~*A Fine Merlot*~

As the glass breaks, the wine is
Spilt like blood upon the floor.
What a shame to let such a good
Merlot go to waste, yet how interesting
It is to watch it spread between the
Grout and tiles. It oozes like that of
A fresh wound sliced into ground, as
It pools readily around the sole of a
Shoe. So free flowing, if only this
Body could flow as such, with such
Fluidity. Yet, the flesh is not giving,
Unlike that of the fragile glass and
The need to bleed overwhelms even
The strongest of souls.

I am the glass and my blood the wine,
An offering to and of the soul for
Another to partake of such sweet surrender.
Let me shatter upon the ground, in hopes
That come morn I shall rise like vapour.

(c) 2003 A Riddle