Whiskey Neat
Sharp and bitter-
the drawing in of breath,
the stifling of the vocals
as the burn begins to set.
Soft and sweet-
thirsting lips on hungry skin,
a sparking of the embers
so the fire can begin.
Tingling, spinning-
rushes of forbidden sin.
Small deaths peaking through
the fractures deep within.
Drumming, pounding-
the beating of an unsure heart.
Can he damage what was
broken from the start?
Clenching, releasing-
Sharpened teeth on worried lips,
a seasoned, rebel woman
who still believes in taking risks.
Falling, rising-
She just can’t help herself.
What about him makes her want
to toss those red flags off the shelf?
Raucous laughter-
a lightening of the chest.
But is there more to him than fun?
Is there substance? Is there depth?
Safety, home-
strong arms holding her just right.
Can wholeness be an illusion?
Will it dissipate with light?
Distance, confusion-
a changing of the tides?
Or maybe this was nothing
more than some swirling, churning ride.
Charming, dizzy-
he leaves her wanting more
but he’s only whiskey neat
and she’s had that kind before.
