Monday, February 22, 2016

The problem with whiskey

The problem with whiskey
Is it always makes me cry
It opens up the dry spots
I have hidden in my eyes. 

It opens up the files 
Colorful
Days of youth gone by
It paints the pain of loss
Freshly on my mind. 

It goes down smooth
But always makes me yearn
And without pause
Two drinks in
My heart begins to burn. 

For a time when life was simpler
With nothing yet to prove
And everything still to gain
No days that became weeks 
No fanning of the flame
That burns in all
The souls set to life
When
Just a fire in my belly
Kept wee waking hours 't night. 
Now the tears come
Not because they be welcome
But because the whiskey beckoned. 

Some drinks I hate it
because it makes me cry,
Wells up those tears 
in my big blue eyes
But all be well with it
The tawny sips to mouth, 
reminds me that I'm human,
these tears can't be dammed in,
They need a path out. 



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