My Love For Her Sweet Wine

I tried and tried each night to climb her vine, That reached up to the faceless moon. But he who dwellth in, she callth out, Sweet breath, I took in shame, O'carnal night's. Hard liquor is not wine to me, she nightly said, Love is not the same as love of perfumed grapes. Liquor does not love a weakened youthful heart, Lost in her hunger for the grape, I drank, From her moving sweet, cupped open thighs. None live to long, whom drank from this her cup, Sweet scented dream's of her false opened love. Her beauty was as real to me, as beauty loving is. But bread she did not eat, I ate of her instead, Proverb's twenty-one, I cast from me away. And her oil that she used on me combined, With potent wine and love, left me I know insane.