~Fallen~

[Leanne]

Welcome! I greatly enjoy the film noir feel of the poem (and big thumbs up for spelling whisky the Scottish way, none of that bourbon crap )

She’d had a rye life, -- nice play on words, and I think it's a good way to set up your motif
whisky eyes
seen through ice cube charms, -- I'd be tempted to move "seen" up onto the line before
propped up on a bar stool pedestal
accepting only liquid worship -

no chasers for her, -- again, lovely pun

and I caught her eye
as she swept the bump ‘n’ grind persona -- I like the pop culture references here, the language choices suit the poem well
of Friday night whores,
draped Dali like across wide-boys arms. -- "Dali-like" could do with a hyphen

Her half moon smile -- I'd be tempted to make this entire stanza a pure description by changing "her" to "she" in this line and using a colon, ie. "She: half moon smile", to link up more clearly with "and me the rabbit in headlights glare" -- identify both players by facial expressions
tainted by nicotine clouds -- would "spoiled" work for you instead?
as they fought to escape
the confines of an inhale,
and me the rabbit in headlights glare, -- I'd hyphenate "rabbit-in-headlights" to make it clearer that this is another deliberate use of cliche
tongue tied to this table, -- I like the ambiguity of tongue-tied versus tongue (is) tied
nursing a misplaced conception.

She was slick as she oozed -- perhaps "She oozed slick"
through the waves of melded bodies,
caught in a chimera of sex and music; -- lovely! Where can I get one of those?
a deep throb within.

Another notch to be nicked
in her playground stick,
a passing phase
in her latest craze, -- great use of rhyme and other sound devices in this stanza

she was warm in my lap
like a pile of bones before the pyre, -- perhaps a slight change: "like a pile of bones waiting before the pyre/ ... just waiting"
waiting .. just waiting,

and I found I could climb
the ladder of her spine, though her heart
had escaped that cage long ago,
all I could see was my dignity
lying discarded on an unmade bed, -- I'd get rid of "lying", as it's implied

and her proclaiming
“I used to be a lady.” -- wonderful finish, both a lament and a declaration