Ursa849
@ursa849
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A man and his vice
I step outside, the wind screams at me,
like an old lover who won't let go.
The cold seeps into my bones,
like a well-placed punch.
Every step toward that supermarket
is a battle, a damn ordeal,
but the thought of my whiskey pushes me on.
Finally, I get there, the sliding doors open,
but then, damn it, they tell me it's gone.
My whiskey, that damn whiskey,
it's out, like the hopes of a party night.
I stand there, staring at the empty shelves,
like a man who's lost his last bet.
The cold is nothing, the wind neither,
not compared to the emptiness I feel inside.
I head back, the cold isn't just outside anymore,
it's in me, like an unwanted guest,
while the world keeps spinning,
and I keep walking, without my whiskey 0 reply
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