I drink scotch to know what your mouth tastes like. Frightening and gold. Palace coloured, its borders lined with soldier teeth I never dared to slip behind. The sand your little life is built upon is bones from an ocean long dry and when you look into my water coloured eyes and call me your true blue I imagine myself as a livyatan whale caught in a bed of shells and limestone. Sunk, but with every intention of drowning you.