Relapse She relapsed on the blood of Christ, Then walked out into the mild evening With the sour taste of wine in her mouth And the coolness of holy water Evaporating off her forehead. At the first cafe she came to She ordered half a carafe of red wine. When the waiter brought it, she asked If it had been transubstantiated. He didn’t hear her. She laughed, drank. Before long it had turned her into someone She hated. But she had just been Reminded to love those whom we hate. So, stumbling home, she loved herself.
Relapse
Relapse
Relapse
Relapse She relapsed on the blood of Christ, Then walked out into the mild evening With the sour taste of wine in her mouth And the coolness of holy water Evaporating off her forehead. At the first cafe she came to She ordered half a carafe of red wine. When the waiter brought it, she asked If it had been transubstantiated. He didn’t hear her. She laughed, drank. Before long it had turned her into someone She hated. But she had just been Reminded to love those whom we hate. So, stumbling home, she loved herself.