The draft is determined to witness
every small slip-up we make-
it coerces me to draw closer
and try to keep warm.

It whispers to you
that within reach of your embrace
is a lady in need of the shelter
of your loving arms

Your innocent touch was a comfort
Until your cologne took my sense.
The chill wind laughed and mocked us
as I pulled away

and caught, as I did,
an accidental glance
at the zipper that moments ago
had not stuck out that way

holding you is no option
but the cold draft persists,
so I open a bottle of bourbon
and we share it

to warm us from the inside.
Though my skin and tongue resist
the distance between mine and yours
I do my best to bear it.

as our bottle empties
we discuss our fantasies
technique, lingerie...
I touch my whiskey and discover I already drank it.

while the buzz of liquor overtakes me
I rest my head on your knee
and I wake up alone,
but with your blanket.