Poetry

Magic

Whiskey courses warm through my veins
I’m trying to numb the pain of your deception
To wash myself of your filth
Soap and water just won’t do
And I don’t like ice in my liquor
You both must’ve had a good laugh at me
She knew about me
You knew about me, of course
You promised me you wouldn’t
But you did and she did
No remorse from either of you
And afterward you came to me
Begging on hands on knees
Not to lose me
I was your drug
My honesty was your heroin
My kisses your Mary Jane
I made you feel what no one else did
I am magic
Enhancing your existence
What kind of person must you be
For magic not to be enough?

8 thoughts on “Magic”

  1. Ow? Or rather “OW!”

    First: loved the “I don’t like ice in my liquor.” Don’t like watering it down, wanna feel it to the fullest. Taste it, experience it, as-is, no sugar-coat or additives.

    It’s so spot-on and so damn real that it actually hurt and the way it ends, the point it arrives at? That’s the punch. In the face.

    Liked by 1 person

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