YSFE
Feb 25, 2017 · 1 min read
Stare
February 19, 2017
Is it fair to ask you to treat me
like the last drop of whiskey
before you turn in?
The taste so vivid that you
knock back the glass twice before
slamming it on the table.
You turn around to see
if there’s any more
because you’re begging for
its smooth graze on your veins.
It stares at you in the stomach
and wonders how it can make
all your demons disappear.
Like a charred blanket,
suffocating you
and asking you to stay.
Lick the glass.
Look me in the eyes.
Is there something wrong looking at me in the eyes?
