Her glass of red wine is a little lessfull than his is, and the
bottle is almost empty.
His mind of jumbled thoughts is
a little less clear than hers is, and
his glass is almost full.
That merlot only sends away thoughts
if you let them go.
His are wrapped around his mind
like an ivy, and I can't find its
beginning or end.
A single candle flame shines between
them on the table and is scattered
through its broken glass holder into
tiny reflections, such as this one, on the
wall at their back.
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