My Words are Whiskey

My words are strong, grit-filled and smoking.

Photo by Emiliano Vittoriosi on Unsplash

You tell me my words are whiskey, burning at the corners of your eyes and searing your throat on the way down, heat rising.

I ask you what you expected of a woman Tennessee-raised with whiskey-fire in her blood.

You keep asking for me to be less, to feel less, to honey-coat each phrase that leaves my parted lips.

I t…