Bourbon Whisky Poem by SamM Wild

The fire roars and chokes on it’s own coal fumes, spitting and flaming like a fierce forest fire.
I sit, clutching my bourbon whisky, watching with beady eyes, warm but restless.
The glass is chilled ever so slightly, the liquor, tingling and bubbling effortlessly, as the ice that sits, melts.
I take the tiniest sip, and let the sensation of the taste conquer my entire mouth.
You watch me from your chair.
The fire roars and chokes on it’s own coal fumes.
You stand up and kneel to your knees at my feet, gracefully, delicately putting your hand upon mine.
I watch you.
I watch you.
I - I watch you.
You take my hand and kiss my knuckles with your wet lips, placing them seductively against my hard skin.
You kiss it again. And again. And… again.
I watch you. The fire roars and I still watch you.
You watch me.
I watch you.
My hand touches your cheek. You hold it firmly against your face with both hands.
A tear falls from your eye, to your cheek, to your chin, to my lap.
I tell you I’m never drinking again.