First Swig

That first taste of bitterness,

a dark alley of laughter shared,

where the world spun slow like honey,

sticky with cheap beer and dreams,

we were invisible, floating high,

cracking jokes, gathering light.

The counter sticky beneath our palms,

a half-empty bottle left behind,

but the warmth in my veins remains,

a memory etched, sharp as glass,

reminding me youth is always thirsty.