Drowned in Addiction

 

I drink her in to feel something. Anything,
really sometimes. Without her, I am a
skeleton of who I am supposed to be. But she
treats me better than that. The way she
bops in my glass and
jingles around the ice is a melody to my ears.
She's like the heartbeat of my soul. No matter how
many times I hear that tune, I see her soft
touch or hear her whisper out my name,
I just crave another one.
Another song,
another glass,
another slurred words on a Wednesday afternoon,
another chance to sleepwalk through the entire
month of November.
She is my calling, my craving, my soulmate.
And she eats through me, the more I drink her
down. Her presence is as soothing as melting ice cream
on a blistering summer day. She smells like water and
feels like fire. Her name is Whiskey and
I have never been so addicted.