This is a love letter—
to the burn, to the bite,
to the way whiskey kisses the back of my throat
like a bad decision I know I’ll make again.
To the tilt of the world after shot number three,
when strangers become prophets,
when jukebox songs mean something they never meant before.
To the courage I never had before the glass was full,
to the way my tongue loosens like a rope cut clean,
to the way I stop caring who’s watching—
or maybe start hoping someone is.
To barstools that feel like thrones,
to bartenders who know my name
but never ask for my story.
To the heat in my veins,
to the reckless joy of saying yes when I should say no.
This is a love letter—
to the nights I laughed louder, danced harder,
let hands wander without pulling away.
To the soft blur of neon halos,
to the way sin feels like salvation
when your head is light and your heart is heavier.
But the sun always rises
like an unwanted answer,
and the love letter turns to a debt.
The hangover comes collecting,
the mirror shows a face that looks like shame,
and my body becomes a crime scene
I don’t remember walking into.
The whiskey still works,
until it doesn’t.
The whiskey works
until you taste the ruin on your tongue.
Heather Kays is a St. Louis-based poet and author passionate about writing since age 7. Her memoir, Pieces of Us, dissects her mother’s struggles with alcoholism and addiction. Her YA novel, Lila’s Letters, focuses on healing through unsent letters. She runs The Alchemists, an online writing group, and enjoys discussing creativity and complex narratives.
No comments:
Post a Comment