Lipstick stains my wineglass.
I loved her long before the grapes were harvested,
turned to a red deeper than her stain
but less intoxicating than her lips.
Stick to stone, break the bone.
Broken bonds and words
can always hurt me.
Vow do us part.
Death may still kiss my bride,
a willful bride to a willing death.
She: Look how lovely in white!
He: How handsome in his best suit,
gray as cloud-layer atop a pyre.
Michael A. Griffith began writing poetry as he recovered from a disability-causing injury. His poems, essays, and articles have appeared in many print and online publications and anthologies. He resides and teaches near Princeton, NJ. His first poetry chapbook is slated to appear later this year from The Blue Nib. Drink of choice: Tanqueray and tonic with lime.
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