Manhattan

I sat
in silent solemnity
as the bartender poured
his bourbon.
My eyes fell upon the
amber
as it splashed lazily
across the glassed surface
of the ice cubes.
I was reminded
of how much your hair
fell about your collarbone
in a similar way,
it’s chocolate hues
contrasted by the alabaster
sheen of your freckle-kissed
moon-soaked skin
brought back the smell of you.
It always smelled like home,
to me.

“What are we trying to forget tonight, pal?”
the bartender wheezed.

“Not forget,” I muttered,

“Remember.”

~LT