Cold November sky.

882 22 14

Alice in a palace, red wine, crystal chalice.

I drink to thee with lips.

I drink of thee with eyes.

Alice never callous.

Words chosen ever flawless

Always speaking truths.

Never seeming to tell lies.

Alice turning cold and heartless.

Leaps at me with hate and malice.

Leaves me lying limp and lifeless

Beneath a cold November sky.