You’re like whiskey in my throat
Burning every time i swallow
And truth is I hate the taste of it
I could barely hold in a glass
If you think it’s an analogy of us
Or whatever it is that we have
Please take a seat with your pretentious little head
The same one I see every morning before I’d leave
Before I’d linger to savor every moment
Now I want to throw this unfinished whiskey at your face
Call me bitter or whatever word you can come up with
(Should I expect it to be clever?)
Because even I can drink this whiskey faster
Than you trying to start a conversation
