Melt

So be still your blighted blades
curl up beside me tonight
and we'll indulge in a wine
of reckless abandon,
To let a benevolent silence fall 
Upon voices rising
From empty places 
where is best not to linger.
And my love,
you make me miss whiskey, girl.
A fiery blaze of melting surrender;
Sweet,
only not sweet at all
but taste is not what sustains
my wanting.
So thank god for Chianti 
As I ignore the treacherous logic-
The practice of abstaining
Still implies eventual indulgence.