Sunday, August 14, 2011

shuffling through people like cards.

she'd given him a bottle of 12-year-old Jameson
the Christmas that they were together
before disappearing three weeks later.

it took him almost a year to open the bottle
(and another six months to actually drink any)
but once he had
he was conflicted:

half of him wished he would've waited a little longer
because it would've been that much sweeter

and the other half wished he'd just dove right in
because immediacy is where salvation lives.

but either way
every sip burned
in that good way
and every day burned
in that bad way.

regardless,
yes, the burn hurt
but
as was often the case with so many things
he got used to it

so he let the fire down his throat
warm the heart that he'd let freeze over.

1 comment:

emilyf said...

nice. you pass a wide range of emotion in your little poems like this. i'm always impressed.

though i might nix the 'that' in the last line :) can't help the editor-addict within, sorry