Poetry

The Ghost in the Whiskey Bottle

By: Brittany Groat

 

Whiskey Sours

Isn’t your lower lip dour?

The Whiskey power

Sour no more

Have you heard the back lore?

Stumbling I cower

Slowly

crumbling you rise back don’t you feel like a flower?

 

Beautiful coward.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s