Red wine is what comes to mind
When I think of how you poison me.
It’s slow, delicate and good in small doses
But I’m overwhelmed and drowning in your sea.
You are bitter to some, smooth to others
It just depends on who you ask
To me, you are nothing more than an addiction;
I’m always looking for the next glass.
You don’t rob me of my senses, but slowly
You work your way into my veins.
I’m not sure when you tipped the scales
And managed to drive my blood insane.
You turn me vulgar, you turn me sweet,
But of course those are just my lies.
I want you to be the real cause
But more likely that’s how I am inside.
You are my muse, the perfect drug;
Classy but able to break my will
So be my escape, my fast getaway,
Please, pour enough for the kill…