- Erotic Poetry
- The Whiskey Talking
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Things happen when you drink in too much
Irish—Whiskey is like donning a warm cloak—
At noon, with not yet any food in my belly,
he kept on pouring—Out that warm feeling
he has—A way with words that I fell for, damn
near instantly—Overcome by gratitude for
someone who can truly feel—Me? Well, I will
never be the same after that hot kiss of Irish—
Whiskey had me donning him like a thick cloak—
Worn soft or rough, or really any way I want
it—Felt so warm and generous, so I let him—In
to my heart-of-hearts he came; and there he will—
come again.
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