My Love for Wine by Ramon Leon Rivera

Love has turn barrels embodied with potential, into nothing more than old rotten caskets wasting away each day after the next. Vivid memories of dark sky’s full bloomed into bright star kisses, have begun to be nothing more than torn pictures spread throughout the city. At one point in time, there filled a liquid in my ceramic encased heart that would pump a very real element that had limitless half-life. As the next hammer begins to pick up where the last one had dropped, one must remember the beating the last one had given.