You know when all your mistakes

Taste like the best choices?

They taste like coffee in the morning,

And some high spirit in the evening,

And they make you shiver,

And sweat,

And reconsider

All of your thoughts,

And wishes, and wants.

And you’ll lose all the plots

Just to have the chance

To choose again

The poorly poured wine

In the pursed lips

Of someone you loathe

As much as you loathe yourself.