The Glass Calls My Name

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