One more...

One more glass and I will submit
to the memory of her dress.
Silk less smooth as the skin within,
and I’ve seen her wearing less.
But you never knew me quite this way
with my eyes so full of clouds.
Some black poison has ruined me
and the gown is now a shroud.

One more glass and I will resort
to softly whispering her name.
Writing words on my exposed pale palms
in an attempt to hide the stain.

But you never knew me quite this way
With my body so stale and old.
I’ve tortured the flame of this candle
And its grey smoke kiss has left me cold.

One more glass and I will forget
the sweet memory of her dress.She wore it for me one afternoon
when she still wanted to impress.