Old Fashioned Cocktale

Pinterest image

Questions swirl in the mist of bourbon blended sighs. Cherry puckered rewind of a time I bared my soul, wrapped upon your root – desire sublime.  Where did I go blind? Or did you grow restless before you made me home? I don’t want answers. I want the highs of your kisses and the lows of bowing on my knees. I want the chills that race upon skin, seared with angry regrets. I want the fevered welts left on barren lips that refuse your good-byes. I want your words to embrace me, in unpolished rhythm that pulses in passion spewed upon my chin. 

No excuses, no apologies. Just make it right. 

4 Comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s