Bourbon-Smooth.

Halt; I stop, I stand, and I think,

of the ability you harbor, so secretly,

to demolish walls built up around me,

the Bourbon-smooth tickle of Mystery;

 

As you know, I feel your flow,

winding tightly to and fro,

with each and every breath, it grows,

until it permeates through to my soul;

 

With you, comes a sizzling sound,

it’s like you carry seismic energy around,

when you speak, I hear no other sound,

the missing element to the true compound;

 

And, as the time slips by us each day,

against the joke of existence we spend separately,

just know that nobody else makes me behave,

like the dumbass that you seem to cultivate.