I wore burgundy and gold macabre dress.
He wore a black suit.
We danced the night away
And I could barely breath.
Yet nearing the end
I felt a cold stab of guilt
And bit down hard
On my goblet.
Shattering the thin glass
Between my teeth.
It cut my tongue
And the inside of my lips.
I could do nothing but
Spit out the beautiful splinters,
Creating a pattern of glimmering
Red on the floor, that so closely matched my dress.
I suppose all sweet things
Just turn as bitter as blood
And just as hurtful as glass.
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