Two candles flicker; casting shadows as young lovers dancing across the walls. And two glasses of red wine rest their weary rims upon an oak table awaiting the puckered embrace of warm lips meeting sweet ambrosia. Yet only one lonely heart remains in the echoed memories of love; getting slowly drunk on blood shed from the bite of a soft rose all in the name of fanciful romantic ideals. Such is this writer’s Valentines Day; one more day reveling in the morbid artistry that is life.
Created: May 13, 2012awakenedphilosopher Document Media