Whiskey

  

They were lies.

 

I recognized their particular shade of spin as soon as they dripped from his exquisite lips.

 

I wanted to drink deep of that shade.

Drown in those lips.

Convince myself I didn’t already taste that familiar undertone of acid.

 

I could have played along.

For just a little while.

 

I could have leaned in close,

lips curled ever so slightly,

whispered wordlessly,

Game on.

 

I could have slipped my hand in his,

And disappeared past midnight,

Kept that harsh song of loneliness silenced for a night,

Or maybe two.

 

They were lies.

 

And there wasn’t enough whiskey in the world tonight…

To make me forget.

 

 

Chelsey Whitlow

 

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