He looks me in the eyes,

And hands me a bottle of wine.

Red, his favorite,

It matches the blood stain on his clothes.

He twists the knife in my heart,

And leaves me falling apart.

I scream, 

Puts a gentle finger on my lips.

His hand traces my jaw,

Down my throat.

Only to increase his grip,

And strangle the drops of life I once had.

His hand makes it to mine,

And hands me a bottle of wine.

“Another sip,” he said,

“It'll make the pain go away.”

I take a sip and force a smile,

And I get a devilish one back.

He leads me to his friends,

He puts his arm around my waist.

His eyes watch the glass as I lift it to my lips,

Making sure I drink enough.

Only to go into the backrooms,

Bring me closer to him

Enough to hear his heartbeat, 

And stab me in the back.

But it’s okay because,

 The redder the wine,

 the solace I find.