Her lipstick stains my wineglass.
I have loved her long before the grapes
turned to a red deeper than her stain
but less intoxicating than her lips.
Stick to stone, break the bone.
Broken bonds and words
can always hurt me.
Death may still kiss my bride,
a willful bride to a willing death.
She: Look how lovely in white!
He: How handsome in his best suit,
gray as cloud-layer atop a pyre.
Michael Griffith began writing poetry as a way to stay mentally and psychologically healthy as he recovered from a life-changing injury in a nursing facility. His works have appeared in online and print journals and anthologies. He lives near Princeton, NJ.