Tiempo told me I was like alcohol
Good in measured amounts
but really a poison

I suppose in some way Tiempo was right
Even if their motivations were more from a place of resentment

I’m a lot
And most people can’t handle me

I try and give them measured amounts
But I can only hold myself back for so long
Before you know it I’m just me
Walls down

I guess most people don’t like that
The genuine words spoken
Are taken like a dagger
To their hearts
When they were meant to
Heal
Their open wounds

I suppose I’ll never get it right
I can’t fix the already broken
Even when I know what they need

I may be alcohol but I don’t have to be poison
That’s up to the drinker

I can be soft and sweet and help slow down a chaotic day
I can make you laugh and smile
Even cry when you need.

And when your done I’ll be there to get you through the next day

Some people abuse me
Through the way they use me

But I don’t think I was made to be drank
Poison is meant to be kept in a bottle
It’s pretty
But you don’t touch it

Do you blame the poison?
Or the hands that opened it?

I hope Tiempo reads this and writes me a response.
I’m awfully invested in their thoughts

I hope they stop seeing me as something to drink
Instead as something to admire
After all alcohol can be a nice beverage
I love a good wine
in measured amounts
I know how to handle myself

Do you?