There is such beauty in the presentation. Drinkable art.

The bottles, the glass, the corks.

The corks are little works of art. Printed with lovely writings and stained. Gatekeepers to my oblivion.

Each one is too special to throw away. So I keep them in a drawer.

Lined up, the bottles, clear, green, and brown. I count them and admire the way the light makes the glass glow and reflect.

The sounds of the bottle on glass, the bass of the pour.

The red in my glass, held up to the light resembles a stained glass window from a church in my memory. And just as holy.

Inhale, earthy.

Woodsy, thick, and warm.

Savor the magic of the first drops on my tongue and the warmth in my belly.

I fall willingly deeper into my glass.

What a pretty way to drown.