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August 28, 2017.
wine meets tequila.
gravel meets marble.

tequila

I'm reaching out.
My cold, sweaty palms desperately clawing towards the ceiling.
They're catching invisible stars
that I count instead of sheep.

I use my sorrow as a faithful witness.
My sorrow is a woman of vengeful flames.
She slams me against walls
just by whispering my name.

She is the force that nails my hands into my bed.
So gentle she is as she presses her kiss of death.
I beg, I beg- No more, I'm tired of being
crucified and pretending I'm not sore.

Dry mouth, damp eyes
Bruised wrists on a broken child.
I ask her if there's anyone on this world who can be kind.
She says pretty promises, setting up her lies.

Encouragement is nothing without spine.
It's just a sad recipe unless there's effort and a drive.
I've learned this much in my little life,
things won't just change solely because of time.

Time is small; It's you that's valuable.
You change like chameleon Autumn leaves.
Ripen like grapes-
Ripe with your decay but beautiful in taste.

I get drunken on the type of melancholy
that inspires you to say when you've had enough.
I love the strength that peaks through self disgust
like sun through thin curtains that dance in the breeze.

Sometimes I dance along on my good days.
I move with the air that travels into lungs.
But I end up nowhere.
Just constantly imitating things that give me that buzz.

But you, my beautiful shot of tequila
Go down so smooth but hit me so strong.
Time goes nowhere when you're in my system.
You pull my lips into a grin, and that's when I know I'm long gone.

I'm your lime wedge, your rim of salt.
I'm sour like a lemon but comfort you with my hint of pine.
My salt; gritty like shattered asphalt.
But I always give you laugh lines.

Poetry by aidan haskel