Pass The Bottle I'm Still Alive In

Draped in the scent of cheap booze and a scar spangled banner
of self recriminations
I rose from the ashes of my last hangover
an unboxed compass lost to wayward seas
that’s found the hidden place where all beauty hails from
it whispers a soft seduction
an echo of femininity
of wild passion
and a hint of salt

between the plumes of smoke
and the soft click of a switchblade spring
is her rogue caress
it’s serpentine twisting my guts like a knot
tied by a veteran sailor
trying to ensure the anchor will hold to the ocean floor

as her allusions work through the cigar smoke
and spark like flint before striking the flame
she catches the eyes of temptation
and dares we hold her gaze
the allure of such a fragile creature
wrapped in desolate hunger
is enough to force the most brazen to adhere to
furtive glances

she has darkness draped round her shoulders
as a minx scarf
wearing sin as a rich perfume
she sings for her destructive stranger
in a crooning siren song

sorrow has chosen the form of a woman
to accentuate its sullen curves