The Drunken Folly

I am drunk. 
I contemplate your existence, until I can't think about it no more. 
Ah, beloved! Is it you making me drunk or is it the wine? 
Is me wanting you me being in an extase of wine or love, my dear?
Or perhaps I am in extase of love drinking my sorrow away, drowning! 
Ah, my love. Your sweet cherry mouth (I could kiss it a hundred times and a hundred times more and another hundred times).
Your sweet cherry mouth, so far away. I bite my lips to replace the innocent pleasures you give me when we are alone under the stars, God watching us, God judging us.  
Your soft silver skin against mine. 
How lonely and miserable I am! How drunk I am! 
What can I do but to take another sip to ease the pain? 
What can I do but the mimick your touch with my own clumsy hands? 
Ah, my dear, my life, my love.
No music can replace your heartwarming laughter.
Drunk and foul I fall before your porcelain feet:
"If you are the cause of my drunken state, my dear, then let me roam the streets drunk of love forever!"