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baby and her bourbon
all bourbon is whiskey, but not all whiskey is bourbonto be honest it burns all the samefire in my bellydamper on my memories call it an old fashion or neat with a twistit doesn’t matteri plan to drown my sorrows either waydon’t really need a glass, just a cheap bottle all these cyclical words about…
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Our Song
I stole a line from some movieSaid that the next song we heard would be our songI should have known when I kept coming up with static on the radioWe were not a romantic comedy, but a horror movie
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sinking and sunk
Wading through the sunken treasure of all my past lovesSearching through these rusted regretsThere is nothing here for me anymoreWhat was golden is now nothing but gray memoriesShipwrecks and heartbreaks that’s all that’s left of us
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grief
I can start listing on fingers and toes all the things you were meant to witnessAll the dances, grandkids, and other thingsGrief gave me too many ghosts to countSomedays I curse your name, others I praise itOne day maybe I’ll even rejoice in it But for now I’ll just waste my time living in dreams…
Kim Writes Stuff 