This side of sober,
Might not last much longer,
The devil on my shoulder,
Turning my world colder
I’m yearning for the burning,
That coats my throat,
The toll on my soul,
Will be high,
The devil lies,
No harm in one sip,
But that a slip,
Into the darkness,
Into the hardest part,
Of my heart.
This side of sober,
That devil never falters,
Never alters course,
He’ll come knocking at my door,
This will mean war,
At my core,
The hiss of the whiskey kiss,
On my lips I sometimes miss,
The devil says just one sip.
About the Creator
Yvonne Knight
I'm trying to find a place for my writing.
Keep reading
More stories from Yvonne Knight and writers in Poets and other communities.
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi2 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.