The whiskey curse

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I can smell the whiskey on your breath. Your words, they smash together like colliding birds, awkward and unsettled. Your hands, your rough caloused hands, they grip the front of my shirt in angry fists. Your large swollen, drunken eyes shift and slide beneath their sockets. Leering at me daring me to utter one word. But courageously I sputter a measly heart felt statement, a statement that makes you stop a second and rethink what you are about to do.

“Remember what you said yesterday? Where is that man now?”





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AndThisIsReal This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Feb. 17, 2010 at 6:40 am
"The words they smash together like colliding birds". Fact: I like that line. This is a good poem, it's short but gets the point across very well and I can tell you people will be and are able to relate to this. By the way I appreciate your comments, thank you. :)
 
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