'The Time for Love is dead'

Just one of a handful of poems I wrote over the summer.

The mood seemed right for a glass of wine
To further inflame my aching head,
The night was bright
The stars a sight
For Lovers lonely beds.

Young girls romanced
By men who danced with sharp an acid tongue.
The same men who listened to their drivel with spite
Whilst the night was young.

My mood was shaken by the drink,
It had left my emotions bear,
I had run out of bitter thoughts to think,
When I met her lonesome stare.

My arms moved where my words were stuck
In a pass at something sincere,
But she disliked my touch and told me as much,
Saying she would scream if I came too near.

I tried to impress her with clever words that I had
somewhere read,
But she merely rolled her eyes as she told me 'the time for
love is dead.'
My eyes quickly cleared as my dark thoughts reappeared,
And I sadly nodded my head.