23

On the rocks.
That's how I'll take it,
that's how I hope
that love
is served.

Two spirits, 
one ounce a piece,
ensconced 
inside a glass.

Ice to help
the liquid settle,
to keep it 
cool,
so flavor lasts,

It's meant to sip,
So you can savor,
every sigh and shriek
and gasp.

Slow burn.
Warm fingers
gently tickle,
calming,
whenever
there's a crack.

The ice can shift,
and bump or grate,
leaving shards 
displaced.

But slowly, 
smoothly,
all those shards,
can fuse 
together
in embrace.

Love's not simple.
It can hurt,
and it
can be a risk,
but if the choice is
offered,
On the rocks is what I'll pick.