whiskey cigarettes
Your passion is intoxicating
It tastes like whiskey burnt in oak barrels torched and charred
it smells like cigarettes and sweat like hard work from someone who thrives off of 4 hours of sleep
It looks like waking up before dawn like a farm boy “as you wish”
But it feels so so lonely
Charred Whiskey Burns
Cigarettes and Sweat they sting my eyes all these things you do before the sunrise up, no one can know.
I am your #1 favorite pre-sunshine activity. this passion like every sun-soaked addiction it sizzles when you stand too close it overflows steam scorching skin
I can no longer stand within this splash zone
of shit.
Next time I wake up first
There will be no dawn with your secret
There will be no burst of passionate cheek kissing and foot rubbing there will be nothing there will be you no sun no secret
The moon Luna is MINE I take your secret back and climb scratch crawl high towards my moon where the world can hear every word
Anything that needs to be said come here to my moon to my terms let the wind carry your sentiments beyond the quilt
the echo reflecting what you really say to your secret. Because you
cannot
keep it.
