The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

Tequila Kisses

It was years before,
That I had been turned,
To the sweet taste, 
Of kisses that burned.

But tonight was different,
As I stood upon her stoop,
I felt trapped,
Like a pigeon in a coop.

Her glances were brandy, 
Her touch was gin,
As she leaned in closer,
Tequila kisses became my sin.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace