"alcohoism" poems
I woke up at 6:30 next to a working man
with no desire of wine
By 6:45 the silk blanket for coating my pain
had became an inquired taste.
A desired taste
Still, no.
Not yet
I sat up with a heavy heart at 10
Why does he do this to me?
His curls and scars became
an aquired taste
Tasting him is of what love tastes
But no
Not yet
I sat there at 10
I sat there at 10 with a pain
Should I dare touch the cork?
I had the pallet for the silk
I had the time for the smooth
Still, no
I sat there at 10:30
It was blunt
It wasn't beautiful
It was an empty question
A double dagger to my body
Which is the addiction
Which is the murderer
Which holds my conviction
He is home at 4
It's 5 o'clock somewhere
Now
I can touch
I can taste
A trembling had reaches for love
But did the glass touch finger tips
Before he would
Both are such a riddle
It's twisted with disease
One moment my heart is infatuated
The next my broken body bleeds
It's about to be 6:30
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 1:55 PM UTC