Jonathan Berger's Poetry: Poem of the Day
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My belly swelling with Merlot,
an awful brackish liquid I'd never have had in better days,
I swill the brew as if it could actually
make me forget
a single moment of our times passed
and how we crashed
so hard
so fast.

I do what I can to erase those final moments
from my sweaty brow
to eradicate that space within
that you fill
knowing full well
that the grapes in my belly
the wine in my blood
and the place in my head
you reside in
you reside in still.