Pop the cork off,
emotions first soft,
remove the bottle cap,
carefully color the map.
A warmness on the soul,
makes a man feel whole,
his mind a burning coal,
he's rescuing his role,
it's taking its toll.
Liquid enlightening,
frenzy frightening.
She stands back,
wants to pack,
leave the track.
She says it's not him,
only a whim,
when filled to the brim.
Although it's grim,
she stays,
the days,
the greys,
she pays,
she preys.
He is not free,
doesn't want to be,
because by saying it's just the drink,
he proves the link,
he cannot think,
for himself, a slave,
to the crave,
not a disease.
Simply not free,
because he chooses to be.