Like a thousand red flames burning on my tongue.
Rises up my throat, spills out of my mouth, seeps into the crevices of my teeth.
Pushes my breath out, takes little time to say,
But requires muscles to produce.
Every letter, every syllable,
Flows through me.
And yet, your name is liquor, brandy, and wine:
Hard to swallow, but easy to cope with after a while.
Your name becomes a symphony,
Every flick of my tongue a trumpet, violin, piano;
A beautiful, blended melody that takes time to master.
Nothing is smoother,
and more complicated,
than your name.