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.