I used to drink myself to sleep. <br />I found comfort in the bottle. <br /> <br />I remember the taste on my lips, <br />the curve in my hand and <br />I still feel the burn in the pit of my stomach. <br /> <br />The whiskey sings a sweet low song and <br />I can only hold my empty glass, sing along. <br />I can only hold an empty glass and sing along.<br /><br />John Kipling Lewis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-whiskey/
