The Whiskey on Your Breath - after Kim Addonizio

This remembrance of that stale smell
of whiskey, strong and vibrant
rolls over the hills like clouds bringing the onslaught
of lightning, thunder, and rain pouring heavily,
soaking through my clothing and drenching my soul.
I know that smell - that sour, burning sensation as it
goes down my throat, searing and causing my face to
scrunch together in a pained expression, of annoyance.
With the whiskey comes the vicious, drunken attacks – if
it could be called that at all - wild swinging, just hoping
to make contact with a part of my body.
My eye swells, decorated with black, purple, and a mucus yellow
that marks the distinct form of a bruise –
Flesh, blotchy from exertion and anxiety,
the continuous beating from your tightened fist
against my cheek, neck, torso, and stomach.
Air skates across the surface of the linoleum flooring,
creating a frost covering it in layers,
distorting the colors beneath.
My limbs ache still from the torment you present,
so maliciously and always without second thought
about whether it would be right or wrong – no
sense of morality, no dignity left
as you strip me of my pride and clothing.
You defile me physically and mentally,
send my mind to another world –
of pain, anguish, distraught; confusion
seeps through mild cracks,
resonating viciously like a gong struck hard.
Your malicious intent is evident in the dark
gleam and hard expression in your eyes.
Your irises are coated in a sleek haze
from the alcohol you down mercilessly
in but a few seconds – instantly reaching for another.
I jerk to reality as the smell wafts

into my nostrils and fills my sense with recognition.

Instead of fear crawling from the shadows,

an odd feeling of serenity takes hold of me

in a loving embrace – strong and secure.

Comfort runs through my veins like blood that gives me life.

This remembrance of that stale smell

of whiskey, strong and vibrant,

rolls over the hills like clouds that

bring forth rain sprinkling gently,

giving life to new buds of flowers –

sweet fragrance lulling me to sleep.

I know that smell – that sour, burning sensations as it

goes down my throat, languid as a dancer,

turning my lips upwards in a lopsided grin.

With the whiskey came the moment of a lifetime,

of discovering my other half – yin and yang.