A Bottle of Scotch


He loves the tall, sleek package
you come in. How his body trembles
a little when he holds you. His hand
refusing to be steady. He loves what
you do to him on nights when it’s
just the two of you.. How you let
him drink from your core until he
is so
consumed with you,
he can’t
stand up anymore.

You are such a vixen. You aren’t
satisfied until every cell of
his body
is whimpering. He always gives
you that. You know you can have
him any way you want. When
you’re finished with him, you
sit and watch as he curls up
into a ball, facing the wall.

In the morning he’ll awake
with an
aching head and a heart sick
stomach that comes from
loving you too well. The sheen
of pleasure gone. The guise
of ecstasy of those who
destroy everything they touch.


13 thoughts on “A Bottle of Scotch

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