the boy with the brown eyes and the drink to match
i had my first drink at 14.
my grandmother gave me the rest of her boone’s farm and it tasted like juice so i didn’t mind.
i remember that night.
i held my bottle and played guitar hero and felt at ease.
pink liquid past my lips and the keys at my finger tips i was golden.
never thought that 5 years later i’d be at a party with a pretty girl in my lap and another bottle. don’t even really remember but i think it was blue.
or i was.
either way i kissed whoever she was and the girl sat there and waited for her turn.
the next year i was in a room of people who now have no room for me.
i grabbed the first bottle i saw, a cup, and a shot glass.
there was a boy who i never really liked but he liked me so i let him pour my drinks.
that night i sat on his lap and danced with the girls who didn’t want to dance with their boyfriends.
my empty heart full of jack, kayla, sabrina, tequila or whatever or whoever else i decided to take in.
I’ll be 22 this year.
almost 8 years have gone by since i tasted my worries roll over my tongue for the first time.
i’ve had many different nights and plenty different loves and now i hold on to God as close as i held my bottled peace.
now a piece of scripture at the back of my throat.
burning my sorrow with love but even Moses fell short.
so sometimes sin sits in my hand looking like a sangria and i close my eyes.
brown as the bottle i’ll buy tonight.
but in the morning i will roll out of bed, check my face in the bathroom mirror and say “Thank God”