You were bourbon in my coffee cup.
The taste that was not quite right,
but I went ahead to fill it up.
I tried to comprehend the plight
That you said was inexplicable
And no matter how, you stood unfamiliar.
I drank, as shivers were sent down my spine. Delectable,
inquisitive touches that I reckoned as vernacular.
I don’t want to wake up and get myself intoxicated.
Yes you have loved me, but in cold blood
To pin me down into the rut.
I will continue to wonder
at the back of my mind, whether
all those who tasted you speak
the same tongue. Weak
you may call it,
but, I’m sticking to my morning coffee.