Vodka Shot

Her touch feels like a vodka shot It burns my throat in the best way Pools low in my stomach in the worst way And whether I spit her up or keep her down She's always temporary

I burn with shame and something more But still—I make it easy Each taste no easier than the first And yet—I spread and open wide She fills my glass again

So yet again I join the queue This bruised and broken bar Present myself her regular My aching skin her tabletop Her hand feels like a vodka shot