How will I know most definitely
that your permanence is real?
That a kiss on my lips, today, you steal
will not become an obsolete antique
buried in the affairs of tomorrow,
forlorn and lost in sorrow?
How can I trust? The loves of my past
roped my soft heart in layers of wire.
Cabernet, the red marries my pain.
I look in your eyes. You look away.
Then, your arm wraps itself around me tight
and I know I will be all right.
© 2017 Monika Mraovic