by Anonymous
Some nights the gin tastes like water
Clean shots just to take away
The bad taste in my mouth.

Some nights the whiskey is
so smooth, down my throat
so smooth, makes my kisses sloppier
and my hands restless
and makes everything possible –
Sneaky bastard.

Some day the wine
is light, and reminds me
of summer
and clean linen
and potpourri
and herb gardens
and fairy lights
(but there are no fairies in Dwarka
Don’t you know-
They killed them off eight winters ago)

Some nights the vodka is fierce.
Aggressive blows
Bruised stomachs
Angry words spoken in haste
Bleeding mouths
Poisoned limbs
The Russians know how to have a good time.

“I’ll never drink again” She says
Head leaning against the toilet bowl.
Should I tell her drinking means different things
to different people.

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