The Drinkers

N. State
I breathe you in
like the wood from the bar I'm leaning on
and the breath of the beer I'm sinking in
you're here
wooden
tapped
straight and narrow
your jaw is sharp, your brows are furrowed
is it the drink that dictates your expression?
head foams at the brim
we kiss
and whisper
good beer goes bad when tongues twist with angry words
this isn't a drink.
Your thumb hums against the glass
warming the liquid.
The longer it sits still,
the more sober it makes us.

Published by N. State

I love writing about food, the supernatural, and life in general.  View profile

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