The Cherry in the Bottom of My Drink

I am feeling whiskey tongued
and powerful, skin soft
and fluid, craving to be touched.

I could kiss you as long as
you know I’ll never be yours.

If you took off these clothes
that hide us from each other,
you’d find scars you aren’t
ready to face, but I can
make you forget with
another shot of vodka
and my cherry red lips.

Sugar baby, don’t you worry
your pretty little head.
We’re all ruined in the end.


We are craving what
we can only barely taste,
reaching out in hope for
some grand redemption we
were told about in Sunday School.

But that redemption
wasn’t meant for us and
it all ends like this-

With the wine and the
whiskey emptied and
our lungs itching from
the cigarettes we swore
we would never smoke.

Well, look at where we are now.
We only believe in disbelief.