Silver Stained Red

As my hands cradle the broken glass that holds the wine I call love, the droplets from the shattered pieces staining my claws that dark Bordeaux red.

As I watch the trickles bleed from the cracks that are barely visible to the eye I hold myself at bay as I dare not drink from that which intoxicates but leave my soul unfed.

As the love that glows in the dark leaks from the container that shattered but in such a fine way it can barely be seen, my eyes dance as they’ve already drunk deeply and found it bitter.

Dazed, I fascinatedly
watch the blood red love stain my silver claws red.
My eyelids flicker in pain as the high that blood red love gave me starts to fade and I’m left hungover and half-dead.

As the night draws to a close,
so it goes that my claws are silver stained red.