Intoxication

As whiskey sunsets become cabernet skies,

the light fades like the weight of our glasses,

and in the growing darkness we are luminescent,

sometimes a vigil candle, the light echoing in our caverns,

but often a campfire, with laughter rising like embers.

The anxieties we wrap ourselves in like a robe

fall to the floor and we are naked, two lovers

in the garden, and with fruit-stained lips

that declare love we drink each other

in until we cannot stand, cannot form words,

can no longer find the beginning of a circle

when we trace it with intertwined fingers.

Matthew J. Andrews (he/him) | Website | Twitter