Tres Copas De Vino...

"Y te quiero tener...y no puede ser"

My burning candles have me pouring my brand of broken Bordeaux into three glasses...

The first glass looks and feels smooth, the ridges groove as tiny hands slowly and gently stroke.  Rhythmic, hypnotic and still.  Side by side...right there.  The pleasures...steady moist and ready.  Take it slow....nice and slow.  No need for steel since my fingers feel everything sweet.  Every ridge formed by the Gods themselves that man can see their handiwork through fingers and palm.  The breathing is low...until

My second glass gives off a beautiful reflection of pain...yet not the kind you think.  The pain of need to feed on something real.  The pain of desire to be desired by substance.  The loving to be loved as art is loved...with passion and flame.  The wanting to be wanted...beyond it's form.  Beyond it's impeccable beauty and grace...in it and with it...wanted for more...wanted...for real

My third glass is lovely, heady and of a different kind.  It looks like me...but it's not.  For many, too heavy to lift.  For me...easy.  I will sit and watch it from a distance as none could lift it.  To gift it doesn't take much...it takes wine...old wine that shuts off the mind and takes you into places you've never been before.  The places where traces of thought can't stop you from it's magic...it's opening of doorways none have ever cared enough to open before.

Bordeaux ;-)