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My Precious Whisky

Pour in my melancholic depth Touch my heart as you immerse into each vein Expose my sorrow as my shaking hand leans on my bosom Make me vomit my sentiments by concrete tears Drench me with sparks of your power Peel my inner side then drift along to my cold fingers Make my curved fingers open wide and scratch my heart For, such scratch will obtain its blood Lead this blood to pour and manipulate the ink Blended together... United together to etch the anguish Heal my wounded glass Become the very cure! Become the lightning within the depth of such alcoholic wretched ice Ice cradled by tyrannical flames Tyranny… aroused by starving sentiments Sentiments that no one has ever witnessed No one has ever felt No one has ever healed! You…You are my glorious therapy I... I yield for sacrifice as I deeply praise your very love… It is your love my precious whisky… Vivo Sadek

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




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Date: 6/16/2013 11:50:00 AM
I hope your just using this poem as a metaphor for something else as I know your last poem you were hurt deeply-- turning to the bottle is a quick fix, not a solution. Anyway, your descriptions are very good yet complicated. I'm not very smart so I tend to get lost sometimes, but I do feel the deep, dark emotions that can only come from great pain. I will say this though-- if you are talking about the liquid and not the action, you misspelled the word as you left out the "e" second to last.
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