Feb 2018
The warmth fills you up
The burn scrapes your throat
You’d like to hiccough
And your brain is afloat
The Bourbon is hot
The ice is not
The ginger is sweet
But my heart prefers it neat.
The burn scrapes your throat
You’d like to hiccough
And your brain is afloat
The Bourbon is hot
The ice is not
The ginger is sweet
But my heart prefers it neat.
I’m drunk. Leave me alone
