It almost seems like nostalgia;
the feeling of foam against my lips.
An entrancing amber color,
such is ambrosia.
 
The taboo it used to be has me longing;
Leather never had me so enamored.
The epitome of teenage angst;
such is contingence.
 
I recollect lust looming over me;
what felt like love, was truly prurience.
The top down, a gentle breeze brushes over;
such is intemperance.
 
I wouldn’t really call that night a soiree;
though she did look rather dashing.
The evening was mine.
Such is debauchery. 

Debauchery
By: Josh Bunnell