Let me bathe in wine.
I know how it is when you go to bed at 4 in the afternoon to wake up at noon the next day. You've missed work, your alarm clock is going mad, you have 17 missed calls from coworkers and friends, 18 unread texts, and all you can think to do is shower -- to get this grime off you.
I know how it is to not be able to shake that feeling of dirt. You can still feel his slimy lips on yours. You can still feel his death grip on your chest. Your mascara is still in streaks down your cheeks and it has left black on your pillow and everything else between the door and your bed.
I know how it is to shower for hours and still not feel right. You let the hot water pour over you like the waterfall of God. Cleanse me, please turn this water into wine. Let me bathe in wine; nothing else will make me pure. Nothing else can save me.
I know how it is to find nothing to satisfy your empty feeling inside. Your stomach is screaming at you. Shrieking from it's vastness. It feels almost emptier than your soul. You get a cup over water but you can't stop shaking and the glass falls to the floor as it cuts your foot. It doesn't even hurt as much as you wish it would. It can't distract you from the pain of everything inside. There is a river of blood on the floor, but it looks as deep and rich as wine.
Let me bathe in wine.
Words by kgirard
Read 744 times
Written on 2009-05-07 at 03:51
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Wine
I know how it is to fall in love with someone who doesn't deserve a single ounce. To give them your most inner secrets. To share with them your most inner beauty. All the while you know are getting nothing in return.I know how it is when you go to bed at 4 in the afternoon to wake up at noon the next day. You've missed work, your alarm clock is going mad, you have 17 missed calls from coworkers and friends, 18 unread texts, and all you can think to do is shower -- to get this grime off you.
I know how it is to not be able to shake that feeling of dirt. You can still feel his slimy lips on yours. You can still feel his death grip on your chest. Your mascara is still in streaks down your cheeks and it has left black on your pillow and everything else between the door and your bed.
I know how it is to shower for hours and still not feel right. You let the hot water pour over you like the waterfall of God. Cleanse me, please turn this water into wine. Let me bathe in wine; nothing else will make me pure. Nothing else can save me.
I know how it is to find nothing to satisfy your empty feeling inside. Your stomach is screaming at you. Shrieking from it's vastness. It feels almost emptier than your soul. You get a cup over water but you can't stop shaking and the glass falls to the floor as it cuts your foot. It doesn't even hurt as much as you wish it would. It can't distract you from the pain of everything inside. There is a river of blood on the floor, but it looks as deep and rich as wine.
Let me bathe in wine.
Words by kgirard
Read 744 times
Written on 2009-05-07 at 03:51
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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