A piece of sadness

Sangre of Yesterday

Rose-rain gave way to sangre,
Cabernet of yesterday.

Here, a barren, naked grove
Scorched by moon’s mercury stove
Into which meteors dove,
Fairy tales’ wishes were wove.

Wounds of unrequited love,
Whose orphaned heart got a shove,
The fluttering, clip-winged dove
Crashed to its death from above.

Where a cold soul ceased to rove,
Knife held by a soft kid glove—
Into giving flesh it drove,
Robbing every last drop of...

Sangre from rind to belay
Yesterday’s fruit that turned gray.