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The Bourbon

Think it's the little bit of mint
that separates the chaos and the anger

About a third of the bottle gone
when the love starts to kick in

Somewhere in the midst of my work day
thoughts of 3 fingers neat starts to intrigue me

Cool evening, sipping, Bowie's Heathen on the ancient stereo
How I miss that fucker

Refilling my glass
we never drink just one. ...
Written by PoetSpeak
Published
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