Wine

The cusp of your chalice
holds my dreams
and as I pour myself to you,
I see few droplets
Fly around
Just to roll down your slender fingers.
You smile at me,
Taunt me, bringing it closer
and before you sip me away
you wink and leave the chalice on the tray.
"Sweetheart, you know I don't drink wine"
the whisper echoes
as you walk away,
with those remnants
of me
spilled upon you.
The abandoned chalice,
Equally lonely me
stand bewildered.
©srijaprasita