The Aged Whiskey
Platinum hair curling in the rain. Buffalo Trace whiskey in a brown paper bag. Goosebumps on my exposed legs.
I'd rather be your shot of whiskey, than your cup of tea.
White crop top. Ballerina skirt. Rhinestone heels that rest tonight on the top of my steps.
I'd rather be naive with you, than aware with someone else.
Metallic gold nails tracing the top of a martini glass. Red blood from the steak staining garlic mashed potatoes.
I'd rather be quiet with you, than bubbling gossip with someone else.
Unicorn sprinkles. Bright camera flash. Passing teenagers' giggles.
I'd rather be growing old with you, than immature with someone else.
Running into the house in rhinestone heels. Vomit staining white porcelain. Metallic wrapping paper all over the bed.
I'd rather be sick with you, not knowing what the next two months will bring, than healthy with someone else.
A hairless head. Vomit staining the white porcelain from chemo. Metallic wrapping paper stuck in a book somewhere in the guest room.
I'd rather be celebrating three years with you, going through chemo, than waiting on a six month anniversary with someone who wasn't there when it all started.
I'd rather be your naive, quiet, sick, hairless shot of whiskey you grow old with, than anyone else's cup of tea.