Tequila

Every night when I come home
It looks at me—it feels alone
It wants to be there in my hand
I never notice what the brand
It whispers softly through the night
Until I finally give up the fight
I walk to it slowly, inhale the smell
I pour it quickly; I’m under its spell
It makes me want it oh so bad
Whenever I’m happy or when I’m sad
It’s my comfort, my shining star
There’s always a bottle at my bar