fine wine

wild hearts are glasses of fine wine/they breathe to the chaos of Jazz/they sleep in the oblivion of Blues/they ignore personal spaces/they smile while remembering memories they don’t miss/ the past is colored in distorted faces/ they recall all that used/they hold themselves when no one is watching, to avoid being wasted/wild hearts are magical, they cast spells and defy time /their aromas of berries and grape personality runs in overcrowded places/they frighten themselves on purpose, to see if their hair rise/so tamed they blend in, they can take or leave being alive/wild hearts are lovable, it’s quite easy to create bad situations/connoisseurs swallow without tasting/wild is intoxicating/drinkers bask in the lush and drown in the glow/wild hearts spill on cellar floors/there’s a five second rule to lick them clean/drinkers sleep like bears do until the body forces them awake/grin in the faces of sobriety/the wild is about the art, the craft, and the beauty unleashed/only the voracious should dive in and embrace/apricots and black cherries pirouette on enchanted palates without glasses because they confine and break/drinkers warm their throats with tart, acidic, full-bodied, and extended smooth aftertaste/the wild can be fragile and the wild can be fading/the wild exists to be appreciated/wild hearts are glasses of fine wine

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