I want four shots of whiskey.

I told myself this story.
I knew it before I left them..
therefore, I knew you before I came.
I fear like a child again.
my wondrous nature
yearning to grow.
The ambulance is racing down the hill again.
I lift my head to stare,
the flashing lights,
sirens bellowing in the relaxed night.
screaming sounds& stories I wish not to hear.
my breathing softer now,
it's impeccably quiet this time of night
I sit near the window
think to myself for a spell.
a monster yearning to overcome
all of my insecurities
all of my minds baggage
but what if it rains?
Strange.
It takes the cake,
this one.
like lazy summer days,
hot & tiresome.
mind cloudy and
unorganized breath
now taking place.
I see why birds skip town
during the winter season
it's another notch on the bedpost
if you survive it.

I wish I remembered the poet of this...

We don't fall in love, it rises through us
the way that certain music does...
whether a symphony or ballad
and it is sepia-coloured,
like tea that stains as it creeps up
the tiny tube-like gaps inside
a cube of sugar lying by a cup.
Yes, love's like that,
just when we least needed or expected it
a part of it dips into it,
by chance or mishap..
and it seeps through our capillaries,
it clings inside the chambers of the heart
to atriums & ventricles.
We're victims, we say.
merely vessels,
drinking the vanilla scent of this one's skin,
the lustre of another's blue eyes
skilfully darkened with bistre.
And whatever damage might result
we're not to blame for it.
love is an autocrat
and won't be disobeyed.
Sometimes we almost managed to convince ourselves of that.