Wine with Mine

Last night, as I lay on the surface of sleep,
I knew not the nights' neuroses
would gnaw on me.
Marinated
in the bitterness of unripe lemons.
Impaled; skewered by sharp terrors,
lain on a wood-grain bed and
seasoned
with deadly nightshade.

Then there was you;

Basted
by loose sheet of blue,
in the dawning morning light,
I watched your sun-roasted body.
Browned
and thickened with the juices
of a love that will spill over.
Tender, succulent and sweet;
you looked good enough to eat.