it starts as a whisper
a smooth seduction tucked
between my ribs and throat
a craving i cannot quiet
the bottle becomes my temple
its contents my holy water
i kneel before it nightly
offering my body in surrender
one sip and the fire ignites
too hot to contain
a tornado of want spinning
tearing through my veins
it is not a joy i seek
but a stillness deep and hollow
a numbing abyss
where my pain cannot scream
but the drink is sharp, cruel
it fills the wound
only to rip it wider
the glass cuts me open, again
i bleed and pour myself
onto every table i sit at
a lonely storm leaving ruins
in its reckless wake
when will my hands unclench?
when will this thirst drown itself?
until then, i brace for the burn
of a promise that destroys
and yet calls itself mine