vintage(muse)

she told me to let the words rest on my tongue like wine, to savor the myriad of flavors, identify the notes inherent within

a hint of coffee, the sanguine whorls of dream, sadness and joy, a ray of light, soaking in my mouth

she was right, she writes with righteous purity, she rights the wrongs of my misunderstanding with grace and skill

so i let her words sit upon my tongue, swish them lazily across my tongue, absorbing her meaning

the notes of wisdom, of truth, a swirl of summer’s day and open smiles, and tantalizing hints of depth

her’s is the most sought after vintage, a lone bottle floating somewhere off the shore, a glimmer on the horizon that keeps me searching

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