Whiskey

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

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