cabernet sauvignon

what did i hear you say

that night we polished off that cabernet

the one that loosened your tongue

just long enough for you to say “you’re the one”

still hear the pop of that cork

when you cupped my chin and called me “dork”

cracking a bottle that cracked open my heart

that was a good start wasn’t it my love

falling for each other so damn quick

didn’t even take one whole vintage

now here we are

many bottles in

playing out the days and nights again and again

wouldn’t have it any other way

how we prune and train ourselves every day

sometimes I’m the trellis and you’re the vine

and the other way around works just fine

hold me baby

swirl me until I offer it all up

take me on a flower day

my lips to your cup

grenache

we drink tea from small white cups,

in an orange grove,

at night,

in the summer.

because why shouldn’t this drink revive us?

because why shouldn’t we go on for hours?

we lie naked in the grass

and, afterwards,

i find the flaws on your skin,

and i revisit them

because i like them

and i know them by name.

we are young and our love is old.

we are old and our love is young.

the moon on your collar bone

reminds me of that piece of driftwood

i drew for you

because you didn’t want to remove it from its home.

when we peel back this night,

a burst of citrus:

one thousand falling bergamot stars and not one wish cast,

for we want what we have.