Glasses Filled With Wine Poem by Uriah Hamilton

I always exaggerate
both my loneliness and love,
both my faithlessness and devotion.

I'm ashamed
by the swift breeze-like way
I can turn on a dime,
so enamored by your presence
but so quick to change my mind.

I need to confess, I insist,
to a deity shrouded in mist
for every gentle soul mishandled
when I was in fear
or out of control.

But I assure you,
my heart is not a thief
as much as I have stolen from you;
I didn't mean to cause you grief,
or make you spend your time
in unhappiness without relief.

One Sunday, after dinner,
I'll light candles in the incense room,
hold your sweater
still permeating your perfume,
and become a new man
incapable of violence.

Find me sitting with friends
with glasses filled with wine
while someone has his daughter
play the piano quietly at dusk,
I swear, in that moment,
I'll be someone you can trust.