the drip

Creaking was the bed,
like Claudia's grandmother's knees,
as she crept out of its comfort
and onto the cold, bare floor.
The warmth of Israel's body
trailed further and further away,
while the sweet smell of his sweat
still masked in merlot
clung to his nostrils
and begged to be released.

Stagnant their love had grown --
The insides of his thighs
muddled with the sweat of another --
Claudia knew all along.

And earlier, he drank the wine
from his cup;
tainted, convoluted
the thoughts in his mind
like bullets blaring past
only to explode before leaving his mouth
while his body lies,
collapsed,
merely sleeping
to the naked eye.