Buzz to the Drunk

Author: Meredith C.

It’s my favorite part
that slow ride from the buzz
the stirring of mind, waking of senses
both in body and perception
some sharpened, others dulled
in all the right places
for me to glide.

When it’s time, I am ready.
I have been ready
senses now alert, looking, waiting
for the taste on my tongue
finally and at last
another day done, another night begins
the wet on my lips, second to none.

Even the anticipation
sometime hours before the first taste
quickens my heart.

Like the chemist or the cook
measuring for just the right balance
that perfect combination of ingredients
where I think I become formidable
completely contained but free
bold, gliding through the hours
To become finally, in perfect control of me.

The buzz in my touch, full
the buzz on my skin flares
blazing across the full length of me
the buzz in my mind, binding me
to this very minute, there is only now
the buzz finally burning down my walls
to the ground, I rise up and go down.

Even the anticipation
sometime hours before the first touch
sparks the match.

Another round and I am flowing over
topping off my audacity, what I think is charm
spilling over yet calling for more
every drink served shrinking me back down
deadening my senses, deadening my heart
dropping me and reminding me through closed red eyes
why the buzz to the drunk
is my favorite part.

Author: Meredith C. It’s my favorite part that slow