The tingle on my tongue,
The sparks that dance around the glass of rum.
How can I give you up?
That taste,
Embedded into my brain,
The only thing that ticks around my mind.
It's not pleasant,
It's not sweet.
It's actually awful,
It's spiteful!
But I endure it all,
For the promises,
The drink has whispered to me.
All the secrets it tells me,
At the strike of midnight.
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