Tennessee Honey

She tasted like honey. At least that’s what I imagined.
The sweet burn dripping out the corner of her mouth,
lingering too long before she licks it off, the lip
of the bottle shining, glaring into me.
I don't think I’ve been so jealous of a bottle.
 
Wanting to be kissed like that bottle, feel
the warmth press into my lips like her head
nestled into my chest as we sleep. Pulling
me into her mouth, drinking away my ambitions,
riding along her tongue and down her throat.
 
Burying myself in her stomach, starting
with a passionate fire that lightens
her head until I reach out and touch
all her extremities, sending chills
through her spine and down her thighs,
 
blissful if only for tonight. Sighing into me
as she swallows, fogging my body, filling
the empty spaces she leaves. Draining
me with her simple lust to feel different,
like she had done with the bottles before.
 
Eyes glazed, staring into my glass skin,
what’s left of the gold liquid swaying
to the unsteady motion of her hands
that tighten around my neck.
 
She bows her head, giggling to herself
as I start to work through her skin, losing
control of ourselves with the common error that’s this liquor,
 
the back and forth, take
and take, motion of passing
the bottle, leading us over to the bed,
only for a little bit though.
She pulls herself closer, wrapping her legs
around me as my arms do the same to her.
Feeling one another in the same heat
as the whiskey in our stomachs, mixing
breaths until it gets cold like sobering up, she leaves.
 


Austin Kelly is a writer with a rather causal and boring life, but with different insights on it. He is a second year student at Missouri State University studying journalism and creative writing. He writes focusing on his simple life and hoping he can reach others through his work, a dream he's had since he was in middle school. In the end, he's just writing his mind on a page and hoping he has time to walk his dogs today.