Whiskey In The Winter

A freudian slip of the tongue,

As I invited you inside,

But I hid the truth of the invitation,

Behind green hooded eyes,

 

I got you a drink to warm your bones,

A towel to dry your hair,

And as the droplets hit your seated thigh,

I tried not to stare,

 

You told me of the cruel world,

How it tore your dreams apart,

But as I held you I was treacherous,

For I longed to hold your heart.

 

 

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