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