Corkscrew.

You're just a cork.

You're just a cork.

You're a cork that he will use to try and stop the wine

of his emotions and regrets and sexual tension from

Spilling over and staining the floor

The bright, white, totally stainable floor of his perfect little ego

It's all he has to hold onto

Since the walls are stained with blood

And the ceiling is bruised

And the furniture is all cracked and dusty

And that picture.

That picture

Of that girl

The girl he loved

The girl he loves

That girl that first popped open his bottle of wine

And put her pretty little lips to the rim

Took a drink

And left

Leaving you to fill the void.