Lingering on the pink of her lips
As the turkey took us into a slow daze,
Barely standing when we waltzed around the living room
The persistent taste of happiness on my tongue
The smell of a roast lay steady in the air
But just the gentle scent of her skin became a memory
For only the good and the bad endure in thought.
So while the feel of her hair under my palm persists
so does the sound of her voice
Hoarse from the screams and tears.
And I cannot shake off the pain from when my rose grew thorns and pierced me
I lose my mind as I try to scrub off the marks she left
But as it turns out
The stains of red wine
Are terribly hard to remove.