ONE HUNDRED PROOF NOSTALGIA

Photo cred to brianwallace on Flickr.

Photo cred to brianwallace on Flickr.

Drink a shot of lonely;
Chase it with a bottle of tears.
Smash the glass, light a match–
Set fire to the wasted years.

This seat at the bar is an old friend,
Marked with my name carved in Ash,
Host to many drunken conversations
With ghosts of a sentimental past.

The tab is always open;
They say my money is no good here.
Another round on the house
Of bottomless saturnine beer.

The corner becomes a boxing ring
To brawl with the shadows of my mind.
Knock back some liquid courage,
Puckered with life’s lemon rind.

One hundred proof nostalgia
Burns like fire in my veins,
A poison to kill
The empty apologies, blame, and shame.

The jukebox plays a melancholy melody
Of things once loved lost to chance.
The waltz of the brokenhearted:
Can I have this dance?

Drink a shot of lonely;
Chase it with a bottle of tears.
Smash the glass, light a match–
Set fire to the wasted years.

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