Blame it on the city
and the whiskey – if you
want an excuse.

Tonight it’s the deliberate
release. A drink to
unlock the lips that
used to whisper

softly in my ear. Secrets
that have been dwelling,
dormant, come to
life with another sip. Each

drop on your lips reminds
you of how I tasted. To hell
with self control. The space
between us is both a blessing

and a curse. How dare you
take my delicate mind back
to that place. Is there
harm in desire? It’s nothing

more than the memories that
become more clear
as the rest of your mind
becomes hazy. But you knew

the danger of writing only
under the weight of the bottle.
The lighter the load, the truer
the words. The fear you fake

of what you’ll say
fades as the buzz wears
off and you look down
to read the truest words

ever written. So blame it on
the city and the whiskey
and forget it -

or refuse to forget at all.