Whiskey Skin

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Hands chase carnal sips.
Of your sun drenched whiskey skin.
Cask made drunken lips.

A flaming shot glass.
Claims my parching thirst for you.
Real slow, make it last.

No mixers, just straight.
Feel the burn stirring below.
Hard rocks penetrate.

The sauce flows quicker.
As it splashes from the well.
More lust to liquor.

Not some cheap whiskey.
Top shelf, Gentleman’s allure.
Just a bit frisky.

Pure grain alcohol.
Marinate in the numbness.
We’re high, after all.

A stupor drunken.
We slur, “It all started with.”
A kiss of her skin.

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5 thoughts on “Whiskey Skin

  1. Love all the analogies in this! “…It all started with a kiss of her (sun drenched whiskey) skin…”

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