Lady Liquor

She is beautiful. She is almost angelic. She is the right proportion of smooth and rough. She embodies the essence of nurturing. She is inviting and warm. She adorns in regal bouquets of browns and silvers. These long autumn gowns cause salvation in all humans male and female alike. She is in my life but, not a part of my me. She arrived at the ball dawned in her cinderella's best and waltzed her way into the lap of madear. After taking madear to be her conquest she was not satisfied. She desired to create a family harem. Given like a birthright to my father a cursed blessing to love. My father wooed as she poured. They danced together in the liters of fermentation. This concubine turned wife. He made a wife of her but, she made a mess of him. For a brief period he sought in the bosom of my mother. She could only have half of him but, that was enough. Like any mistress she tolerated his wife's perfume on his lips. She accepted her lingering intoxicated directives he followed so attentively. Eventually, my mother made him choose and, he chose to return to his espoused. Last we spoke he was renewing his vows. They do that quite often. She is quite the clingy type. She won't let him work, won't let him spend time with his off spring. She is the burden of 100 proof. She is insatiably demanding but, he dives in head first. Taking it to the head as he loves her like the first time, each time. 'Til death do them part. That crazy love. That you shut down my kidneys, causing me bodily harm kind of love. That for some reason when he drinks you in it all goes away kind of love. That you evoke rage, anger, regret, but, she keeps coming back because only she can give him what he needs, kind of love. This last ceremony he made me chauffeur. I had to accompany him to the door of her lair. I had to give him to her. I had to resolve that with or without me he was going to reach that alter. She is so vain she has replicas, statues, and portraits of herself from wall to wall. Others enter to worship her as their deity. They form lines to pay homage and take her graven images home. She must have acknowledged him fast enough because in his rejected state of mind, he directed his wrath towards me.