My Bourbon and Bleus

My Bourbon and Bleus

I just sit there and chew
on my bourbon and bleu,
as you, all nonchalant,
flaunt
how fine you are.

She sees through the ruse
through the bourbon and bleu
asking if I'm alright,
sensing my blight
and sparking my sight,
alight
with a burning desire.

I mumble, subdued,
alongside my bourbon and bleu,
so lost in thought
my words caught
taut
in my throat

I am no guru
with my bourbon and bleu,
my understanding lost,
wanting to accost
with such frost,
yet I finally exhaust,
cost
for such a gamble is too much

I feel so withdrew
holding my bourbon and bleu,
trying to stay calm
but there's an explosion of napalm,
my stomach feels a sudden qualm,
balm
nowhere to be found.

I ignore my curfew
smelling my bourbon and bleu
never wanting to part
as you hold my heart,
as you did from the start;
depart
and I may never find it again.

The realization ensues
as I eat my bourbon and bleu
that I am glad
that in contentment you are clad
even though I may be sad;
had
I only been enough for you.

The pain pursues
around my bourbon and bleu,
cutting at me
until I can hardly see
the picture of he
you adore so willingly,
free
from the haunting hurt.

So I sit there and stew
with my bourbon and bleus,
almost wishing
I could stop loving you.

Almost.