Whiskey

The liquid forms a warm feeling in my stomach,

of not turning back to my old crashed life..

I look at the old yellow train tickets,

forgotten and laying on the old mahogany table where they always stayed..

This place looks like my new home,

thousand postcards of peace on the floor,

sweet scent of the roses..

My heart longs for this joy..

Wooden smell lingering in my soul,

it’s the warmth of the ember that leaves my coldness away…

Pulling at my long sleeves of my winter sweater,

the warmth seems to get closer and closer to me.

My lips are tasting the the sweet liquid,

the flavor of flowers and unending dreams of staying in this world full of love..

I never want to get back to home…

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