Which Is It?

Maybe it’s the fact
That I have never loved
A woman
As deeply as I love you.

Maybe it’s the fact
That you left my life
To turn a page in yours.

Maybe it’s the fact
That I so much enjoy writing
Finding satisfaction,
And solace,
In the words
Pushing to breach my mind,
And be set free.

Maybe it’s the fact
That I so much enjoy bourbon,
Neat,
Or on the rocks…
But pure,
Tawny,
Corn whiskey,
That both bites,
And soothes.

Maybe it’s all of those things.

What I am sure of,
Is that longing for you
Exacerbates
The hurt,
And magnifies
The loneliness.

And this,
Is the trigger…

Filling my glass
With bourbon,

And my screen,
With words.

With the drink,
And resulting emotional freedom,
I need to write,
All the more.

With my heart and soul
Splayed across the screen
With the yearning of wanting words,
I need to fill my glass…

Again.

So it is,
Every night.

I’m simply not sure
If the writing about you
Makes me
Want to drink…

Or if the release of my true feelings
By the drink,
Makes me want to write.

Which is it?

 

 

 

© 2018 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

4 thoughts on “Which Is It?

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