April 9 - Whiskey

Posted

It’s not that there
is another option really. But it
is starting to become obvious this is all we’ve got.
And the scars from the loudest
past versions of ourselves
weigh down our skin
and jangle on the keyring.
What it took to
mostly was patience
and the cost was time better spent if we ended up somewhere else.

My arm hung over top of your knee and wrapped to your inner thigh. We sipped our mugs
with just a little bit of whiskey in our coffee and we watched the earth move playfully
blocking our view of the sunrise, instead
the light just twinkled
as it beamed between the trees.

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Categories April Poems, Home