If love were a potion, it'd come sealed in a glass bottle.
We could admire it, the beautiful mesmerizing liquid
swishing back and forth as we moved it from side to side.
Or we could be one of the rare few, that didn't let it sit
on the shelf, and drink from its sweet succulent nectar.
I choose the latter. And I choose to drink it with you.
YOU ARE READING
A Year of Poems
PoetryA collection of poetry from Alexander Bentley. One new poem written every day. Discover why nearly half a million people love his poems.
