sting

A crimson tear, a ruby stain, A Sting I hold, a piercing pain. That vibrant red, a burning brand, A ghost of love, across the land. Each icy gulp, a memory's sting, Of whispered words, on hopeful wing. Your phantom touch, a fleeting grace, Now just a void, an empty space. I swore to quit, to break the ties, To dry these tears, behind my eyes. But there it sits, that scarlet gleam, A siren's call, a broken dream. One can, two cans, a desperate plea, To recapture you, to simply be, With you once more, in days gone by, Before the tears, before the sigh. For in that fizz, that bitter-sweet, A shattered heart, incomplete. A love now lost, a fading trace, Reflected in that crimson face. So let me drink, this burning red, A solace found, among the dead. Though memories sting, a cruel embrace, I drown my sorrow, in this place.