The Sadness of Grapes

Lightly, very lightly along the edges I will walk. And though my heart the engine roars low and menacing and ready in my hands, and I am tempted to drink heavily from what we were – when the blissful days all blurred into one, and everything was the heady explosion of colours, for now, though pleasant the fermented hours of you and me, to sip heavily just once must be enough, for you have become the sweet intoxicating sadness borne by the grapes.