The Distillery

These days, I’m trying to get over you
but you’ve worked your way into my system
like a good whiskey

and turned my body into a distillery
that makes thoughts of you
in oaken casks of longing.

And, though I know I shouldn’t,
I find myself sampling the merchandise
from time to time,

getting hazy on the thought of you,
drowning these frustrated sorrows
in the liquored memory of your eyes.

© Keighley Perkins


About handshedown

Keighley Perkins is a Cardiff-based poet whose influences include Anis Mojgani, Selima Hill and Richard Brautigan. Her work has previously been published in "Acumen", "Elbow Room", "Erbacce", "Fire", "Northwind" and "Obsessed with Pipework". She can also be found online on Twitter at @handshedown. View all posts by handshedown

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