I cannot decide whether you
are a depressant or a stimulant
as your liquid words slide in my ears
and down my throat
warming me from the inside
and leaving an aftertaste of
honey whiskey in my mouth.
The highs are so damn high and
the world spins while I become
a conduit for electricity.
But when the lows hit I am
staggered to my knees with
no hope of absolution or intervention
from the aching pounding of my heart
reminding me of my own mortality.